


Breaking Walls

by fictionalwritings09



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Drama, Eighty-Four, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, F/F, F/M, Friendship, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, Mild Language, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 00:50:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 37,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9692318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalwritings09/pseuds/fictionalwritings09
Summary: [SPOILERS] Bounty hunters of the Galra Empire, known as "Trackers", are perhaps the most despised of all soldiers among the prisoners. They bring despair to the ones who hope, and death to the ones undeserving of Galran "mercy". Ruthless, skilled, and relentless. But what happens when one of the best of that unstoppable force meets an immovable, ever-hoping object named Shiro? (Also on FF)





	1. Prologue

**Prologue**

**"(The road to) Hell is paved with good intentions." - John Ray, 1670  
**

* * *

**_Log Entry 6102-016_ **

_Odd saying, ain't it? Humans're full of 'em. An answer fer every problem, even if they don't make no sense._

_Like that "Hell" business. Never heard of no place like "Hell", at least not the way Shiro said it. The Alteans believe that death is some beautiful process, that no matter what ya are, ye'll meet yer end when it's right. Pffftttt. Peace-quacks, the lot o' them. And_ they _get the keys to that Voltron weapon? A pretty good universal joke, that._

_Me, personally? I think I'd be all right if there really was a place called Hell. I mean, I weren't no Saint, but there're loads of folks who I'd love to see there with me. And who knows, maybe a fire bath'd be nice._

_...Heh. Probably shouldn't joke about that. Shiro would get mad at me, yeah._

_..._

_...I never used to care about what that kid thought about. Especially 'bout me. But it just feels so quiet without 'im._

...

_I miss you, kid.  
_

* * *

**(One Year after the failed Kerberos Mission)**

"I thought you said you knew this place like the back of your hand?!"

A tall, Asian human ran through the halls of the Galra prison ship, his hand glowing an unnatural purple hue and sweat pouring off his forehead profusely. Just behind him, a similarly well-built, pale woman jogged behind him, one large alien pistol swinging hard as she pumped her arms. Red lights flashed above them as loud sirens blasted through the hallways of the ship, echoing around them as their feet pounded against the unforgiving metal floor.

"First off, quit yer weird human phrases, it's throwin' me off. Second, said I knew the hangar bay," she swiveled around when she heard metal clanging of boots behind her and fired several shots that took out the closest Galran sentries at their heels, "Never said nothin' 'bout the whole _quiznakkin'_ ship!"

However, more robots poured from behind them, and the woman had to grit her teeth when she felt their shots graze past her long, pointed ears - _Altean_ ears. When she bobbed and weaved, silvery-blue hair, tied in a tight pony tail behind her, with a long bundle of bangs dangling over her right eye, whipped around her head like a jagged tornado of steel. She crouched suddenly, surprising the sentries somewhat, and she pulled out a second gun, a mirror image of the first, and fired magnum-sized rounds at them. A pair of heterochromic eyes peered from behind the guns' sights, the left a radiant, ghostly-blue and the right a startling amber, almost bloody red color.

"In here!" the human shouted to her and she backed up quickly, dodging the shots skillfully and returning fire before ducking into the right-side passage with him.

"Y'know, this would'a been a lot easier if ya didn't piss off Sendak, kid," she grunted as she tucked the second gun back into the holster on her left hip, running alongside him now, "Infirmary's on the _other_ side o' the ship, an' ya knew it! Spittin' on a Commander's boots like some idiot..."

"Could've said the same about you," the man pointed an accusatory glare at her, "Did you betray him before or _after_ he got in your bed?

"Awww, what, ya jealous?" she grinned wickedly, and only snickered when his glare didn't lessen, "Calm yer space undies, kid. He didn't even get his pants off."

"And I can trust what you say because...?"

Just as he spoke, the Altean's ears picked up another squad of sentries trying to head them off. She grabbed the back of his shirt without a word and shoved him and herself into the nearest and darkest nook. With all the noise and confusion, the squad managed to pass them by completely, and they took a moment to breathe. The woman also took the opportunity to lean up towards him, speaking in his ear.

"Ya know why," she chuckled, and gave a little pinch to his earlobe, " _Round-Ears._ "

"It's _Shiro_ ," he replied, but it was in amusement rather than admonishment, "...Come on, I think they left."

With the tension between them less, Shiro took one of the Altean's hands and pulled her along to where he assumed was the hanger bay - if the pilot-class sentries that just passed them were anything to go by. The Altean stiffened at the contact, her feet running staggered as she let herself be led along, albeit reluctantly. She wasn't used to letting others take charge, and it made her feel... _funny_. Something Shiro liked exploiting as often as he could.

"This ain't necessary, ya know?" she muttered uncomfortably, her face screwed up in an awkward frown.

"Awww, what, nervous?" Shiro mocked her, enjoying the bare display of emotions, and she gave a twitch of her ears in annoyance. It only irritated her more because he was right.

They finally made it to the hanger bay, much to the Altean's relief, and she snatched her hand back like she'd been burned. Shiro gave a scoffing laugh, smirking at her with a knowing grin. She, on the other hand, just grimaced and shoved the same hand into his face, pushing him out of the way and whacking the butt of her pistol against the control panel, breaking it. With that done, the Altean jogged towards one of the numerous escape pods and knelt at its control panel. Shiro slid next to her as she pulled out a knife from her boot, working at the interface before popping it open. She pushed aside her sweaty blue bangs as she re-programming the directives and positioning system to make the escape pod into a ship with a specific destination rather than just landing on the nearest planet.

"These don't look very big," Shiro observed when he glanced at the pod, his main focus being the look-out.

"Don't worry, ye'll fit," she stole a look at him, grinning, "Or not. Ya did put on some bulk."

"No, I meant...wait, are you calling me fat? Really?" the human gave her a raised eyebrow, and she laughed as she switched her efforts to the pod next to the one she just reconfigured.

"I never said nothin', ye're the one who said it," the Altean looked behind her, ears twitching with the sounds of sentries struggling to open the hangar bay door manually.

"Ugh, just...I mean, the both of us aren't going to fit!"

"Oh, now ye're calling me fat," she dodged the statement expertly, and finished re-programming the second one in record time.

"Stop changing the subject!" Shiro turned to her fully to address her, but his vision spun as she grabbed the front and swung him into the first escape pod, "Wha- _ooof_!?"

She bent over Shiro inside the pod, blocking him in.

"Kid...look..." the Altean sighed, and her voice took on a serious tone which surprised him, "This's probably gonna be the last time we're gonna see each otha, so...I just wanted ta say I'm sorry for everythin'."

"What're you talking about?" Shiro struggled to sit upright in the small space, but she forced him to stop with a hand on his stomach, "We're going to get out of this, and when we do, we're going to find Voltron - _together_. And stop Zarkon once and for all!"

The pale woman smiled a genuine smile, though sad, and she leaned forward to press a tender kiss against his forehead. Shiro froze against the touch of her lips, and she took the opportunity to place a small scanner against his right temple.

"Includin' this," she reared back and squeezed the trigger.

Shiro realized the deception a second too late, his eyes wide and his mouth forming protests that died in his throat when a bright light erupted from the scanner. The Altean felt tears form as she continued to hold the device against his head, but before they could drop, a hot bolt of plasma shot the control panel at her side. The small explosion threw her to the side, and when she opened her eyes, she saw that the pod was gone.

"No, no, **NO**!" she despaired, crawling back to the empty space desperately, "I wasn't finished! _Quiznak!_ "

The Altean growled in frustration, observing the dripping metal of the control panel. The plasma shot must have fried it, causing the escape pod to jettison in a state of emergency. It was a good thing she prepped it beforehand, the coordinates plugged in directing the pod to go straight to his home world - Earth. Far from this place.

"Tracker 84-2009!" a mechanized voice commanded from behind her, and she cursed under her breath, "You are under arrest for treason against the Galra Empire! Drop your weapons and come with us!"

"Heh, just as 'bout stupid as ya look, I'll give ya that," the Altean tapped the gun butt against her palm, and a small capsule ejected from it, "Catch."

Tracker 84-2009 threw the capsule behind her, and it erupted into a little storm of electricity. Sounds of stuttering mechanical whirring were ripped from the pained sentries, twitching and shaking from the electrical shock as they dropped their guns. Taking advantage of their momentary paralysis, the Altean dashed into the second pod and launched it manually, escaping the prison ship and her enemies. As the pod flew towards her ship, hidden behind a far away moon, her face was drawn tight and her brow furrowed in thought.

' _Damn it...damn those_ quiznaks _!'_

Due to Shiro's accidental jettison, she didn't have enough to time to cloak his pod from the ship's scanners, which meant they'd be able to track him. And she definitely didn't have enough time to fully wipe his mind of the past year's memories. Worse yet, with how weak the wipe was, she was certain that he'd be able to get those memories back, given enough time.

And she couldn't let that happen.

' _...When did life have ta get so complicated?_ ' the Altean glanced out the window and spotted her ship growing closer, ' _This's all yer fault, Shiro._ '

* * *


	2. The Beginning of a Long Journey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the gang have their first run in with Eighty-Four.

* * *

**Chapter 1  
**

**"A journey of a thousand miles must begin with a single step." - Lao Tzu**

* * *

**_Log Entry 8222-015_  
**

_One o' the less inventive ones, in mah opinion.  
_

_Been capturin' this...idiot that keeps escaping from Sendak's prison ship fer the better part o' the lunar cycle. Sure is chatty. Likes ta talk about all these..."proverbs" and what not. Said there was wisdom innit, but if ye're goin' somewhere, 'course ya have ta take a step. Said the same thing ta him when 'e told me, but 'e jus' laughed - the little brat._

**_*sound of rustling*_ **

_Hey, who're you calling a 'brat'?_

_You, ya brat. An' brats need their rest, so go back ta sleep.  
_

_Then you shouldn't have called me 'brat'. ***sound of footsteps drawing closer*** What are you doing?_

_Recordin' in mah personal log. Helps me relax._

_...Like a diary?_

_?! Wha - I weren't - I mean, it ain't no diary! It's a log!_

**_*sound of silent laughter in the background*_ **

_Look, can ye jus' go back ta sleep, ya brat!  
_

_...You know I can't see anything from this cell, right? And you're the one who decided to do their "personal logging" in the brig._

_Well I didn't expect ya ta be awake! An'...it's the quietest place on tha ship. Always did mah logging 'ere._

_Hahahaha._

_...? What're you laughin' 'bout, brat?  
_

_"Toughest bounty hunter in the universe" needs to write in her diary to relax._

_...Ya know, I've been real lenient with ya, but you and yer cheekiness're askin' fer it, ya little -_

_You know...it's been a while since I've been able to talk like this. To anyone. Ever since that thing with Matt, everybody calls me 'Champion', but they don't talk to me. And there aren't any other humans on that ship._

_..._

_Why don't you talk to me instead of that log? It'd be nice to have a decent conversation._

_I don't talk to brats. An' don't you think this ain't the first time a bounty tried ta sweet talk me.  
_

_I'm not a brat. I'm Shiro, and I'm pretty sure we're the same age._

_Really? Ye're over 240 years old?  
_

_...Uhhh..._

_Pfffftttt - hahahaha! See, ye're still a brat!  
_

_...Well, I'd still appreciate it._

_An' what, pray tell - "Shiro" - would we talk about? Hmm? After ya soften me up with yer 'friendly conversation' an' all? Secrets o' the Galra Empire?_

_What? No, I just wanted -_

_All the weapons in mah arsenal?  
_

_Okay, now hold on - _

_How much ya miss yer momma? Or, who was it ya said - "Matt"? That the name of yer girlfriend or what -  
_

_Enough! You could've just said 'no'!_

**_*sound of retreating footsteps*  
_ **

_...Heh. Such a serious one, ya are. And ye're still a brat._

* * *

**(A few light years away from Earth...)**

"Damn it...damn all of this...Sun-forsaken - _gah!_ " Tracker 84-2009 cried out suddenly as her ship groaned around her, rocked by several plasma shots to her main hull, "Quit blastin' mah ship, ya purple _quiznaks_! Ugh...sorry, baby, just hold out a little longer fer me."

The Tracker's fighter-class vessel, affectionately named the "Cutting Edge", was an old revamped Altean scouting ship, outfitted with high-class Galra parts to make up for its older design. It was an ugly thing to untrained, and unfamiliar eyes, but to anyone who crossed its path, they found that what it lacked in beauty, it made up for in raw fire power and pure combat ability. The round, peaceful aesthetics of the neon blue cockpit, speed-centric boosters, and soft, dolphin-like vertical stabilizer or fin clashed heavily with the violent violet and deep red hues of its pointed, diamond-shaped wings, spiked nose like that of a combat knife, and corrupted Quintessence crystal propulsion system hitched to its back. It was 9.8 _lorans_ (12 meters) in length, small for its design and class, but it was nasty in a close-quarters fight, and could slice through the heaviest of metal hulls with that knife-like bow. Speed and maneuverability were its greatest assets, and with the gunmetal-haired bounty hunter at its helm, it gained a bloodthirsty reputation.

However, the Cutting Edge wasn't made for long-term, attrition-style warfare, and it was starting to lose ground. Crystal energy was running low, the engines were overheating, and her combatant was more well-equipped than she was. Things weren't looking good for Tracker 84-2009.

" _Tracker 84-2009, halt in the name of the Galran empire!_ " a boorish voice crackled over the intercom, barely heard over the blaring sirens.

Unable to block the frequency, the announcement ran as if on eternal playback, and her head was throbbing from the headache of it all. Not only did she have to deal with the oaf that couldn't take the hint, her vessel bothered her incessantly with all the problems that she knew of, but couldn't fix - like the small fire that just started in the small gearbox located on the right wing. It wasn't as if she could take a break and get out of her craft to repair it while in the middle of battle!

Granted, she'd managed to slip into her bounty-hunter gear - a heavy-set helmet that covered her entire face and a slightly bulky, but snug suit that was made for cases in which she needed to leave her ship while still in space. The faded steel-blue helmet, scratched and worn from years of battle, had two horns that covered her ears and a third horn that sprang from the forehead. A black face plate obscured her Altean features, and the Galran insignia was inscribed on its lower half, just below her eyes. Her suit was similarly colored, and covered in spikes with tones of maroon and indigo that streaked across her chest plate and arms.

Not that it would help against a battle cruiser-sized laser beam.

The Altean glanced at the screen showing the Galran battle cruiser on her tail, only a few hundred clicks away, and a sour grimace pulled at the corners of her mouth. All this time she'd been the one chasing criminals, but now that she was on the opposite end, she could only bemoan the irony of it all.

" _Lock-on detected, lock-on detected,_ " another voice, synthesized and mostly female, added to the excruciating noise.

"ArrrgghhhHHHHH! ENOUGH!"

A pale, almost white hand reached up aggressively and pulled out the speakers above. She offered a silent apology, but a broken speaker system was the least of her concerns at the moment. Her main mission had been to either destroy the battle cruiser's tracker, or at least lead them astray and away from Shiro's planet, but she was failing both objectives horribly. It had to be the new tracking systems - they were positioned at the rear, tucked safely behind the captain's deck, and protected by a particle barrier. Not only was it effective, but impossible to get to, not with the multi-directional laser cannons, six mounted on each side. Though it hurt her pride, she had to concede that the battle cruiser was just plain stronger than her Cutting Edge.

' _What've I got m'self into?'_ she thought miserably, flipping a few switches which shut the ventilation circuit to a flaming regulator, extinguishing the fire, ' _Hope things're goin' better on yer end, Shiro..._ '

* * *

**(Meanwhile, on Earth...)**

Shiro groaned as he was packed into the small cockpit of a futuristic, alien space craft in the shape of a blue lion with four other boys, much younger than him, and tossed around like a baby rattle. He winced as Keith's elbow slammed into his chest from the violent shaking of the craft, perpetrated by an over-excited Lance. Pidge's glasses flew up and slapped his forehead, and one of Hunk's hands grabbed at his non-robotic shoulder, squeezing it painfully in fear.

"Isn't this awesome?!" Lance asked, grinning at everyone's panicked expressions.

"Make it stop, make it stop!" Hunk replied, his voice strained from trying to keep the bile in.

"I'm not making it do anything," he let his hands leave the levers for a few seconds, causing all of them to panic even more, before regaining control, "It's like it's on autopilot!"

"Where are you going?!" Keith demanded, eyes narrowed dangerously.

"I just said it's on autopilot! It says there's an alien ship approaching Earth...actually, two," the young cadet named Lance translated the Blue Lion's thoughts as the group of five lifted off and out of Earth's atmosphere, "I think we're supposed to stop them...or at least, one of them? Uhhh..."

The tan teen closed his eyes, letting the Blue Lion into his mind and present him with the images of two ships. One looked to be in dire distress, and the other was attacking it rather than helping it. What did the Blue Lion want him to do? Stop the attacking ship? Rescue the one in distress?

"What did it say, exactly?" asked the youngest of the group, Pidge, as he gripped onto the sides of the cockpit and Lance's seat.

"Well, it's not like it's saying words. It's more like feeding ideas into my brain, kind of," Lance tried to concentrate once more, but Hunk's voice distracted him.

"If this thing is the weapon they're coming for," Hunk offered in desperation, "Why don't we just, I don't know, give it to them? Maybe they'll leave us alone. Sorry lion, nothing personal."

Shiro straightened his posture as his hazy memories gave him a counter argument.

"You don't understand," he remembered the conquering, the slaughter, the thousands of prisoners he had to share cells with, "These monsters spread like a plague throughout the galaxy, destroying everything in their path! There's no bargaining with them. They won't stop until everything is dead."

The rest of the group turned to stare at Hunk, and he raised his hands in surrender.

"Oh," he stated numbly, his face blank, "Never mind then."

"Wait, how do you know this? I thought your head was still..." Pidge gave a little 'cuckoo' swirl of his finger around his temple, "Scrambled?"

"I just...do," he closed his eyes, "I don't know why I can't remember everything, but I can at least remember the most important thing: we can't let the aliens get their hands on Voltron, or Earth'll be next."

* * *

**(Returning to the battle between the Cutting Edge and the Galra battle cruiser...)**

...This was it. This was the end.

The last shot the battle cruiser landed had knocked her propulsion system out. Her engines, without the necessary fuel, sputtered to nothing, rendering her helpless to the might of the Galran warship.

' _Deadlocked..._ ' she thought, a term used when a vessel was stranded in the black abyss of space, ' _Never thought it'd happen ta me, of all people._ '

Then again, there were a lot of things she didn't think that would've happened to her - the most surprising probably being Shiro.

' _Well...guess this's tha end fer me,_ ' Tracker 84-2009 watched as the battle cruiser faced her fully, preparing to send her into oblivion, ' _L_ _east I tried, right? Guess I'm jus' not cut out fer this "hero" business after all..._ '

The Altean sighed and reclined back, letting her body relax. Maybe dying would feel like going to sleep. Just a flash of laser, then nothing - no pain, no worries, no _quiznaks_ given.

' _I'd have gone out guns blazin' if I could...well, guess we can't always 'ave what we want..._ '

She closed her eyes and breathed in from her nose, letting the breath exhale from her mouth, and let oblivion come to her.

...

...

...

"All righ', what's goin' on?"

Frowning, the Tracker cracked open a ruby-red eye impatiently, wondering why she hadn't been blown to kingdom-come yet. Not that she wanted it to come at all, but now that it was inevitable, a small, insane part of her just wanted it over with.

That's when she realized that a small alert had popped up on her screen, which had probably been the same for the battle cruiser: it was the Voltron Lion alert. All Galran ships were outfitted with scanners that were to find and locate any and all Voltron Lions if their energy was exposed.

And this alert was pointing directly to Earth.

"No, no!" she gave a shout of panic and frustration as the battle cruiser started turning from her and instead towards Earth - picking up on the energy trail of the Voltron Lion, "Hey! Come 'ere, I'm surrenderin', I'm giving - ah, _quiznak..._ "

Unable to distract them or even hail their frequency, the Altean gave an inward groan. Pulling out the speakers had worked against her, ironically, and now she could only watch as the Galran craft moved slowly towards Shiro's location. Her mind fumbled with a solution, and worked out quickly enough that with the battle cruiser distracted, maybe she could get away with doing some quick repairs.

"All right, baby, come on...don't you give up on me. We got work to do."

The Altean knelt down to the floor of the cockpit and proceeded on repairing as much damage as she could, re-routing crystal energy from the main jets to the auxiliary ones. Rocked by a slight shockwave, she could only watch as the giant warship zipped out of view. Tracker 84-2009 groaned and worked faster, her fingers singed and sparking from handling the live wires. She couldn't stop, however bad the pain stung, not if she wanted to reach Earth before they had a chance to find Shiro and eliminate him.

"Come on...come on..." she gave a little prayer and licked her lips as she touched the last two wires together. When her engine sputtered, then roared to life, she gave a little holler of victory and twisted the wires to hold them, sitting herself back into the pilot seat.

"Hang on, kid, I'm comin'," the Tracker pushed the driving gear forward and pushed the engines into hyper drive, "Yeah, c'mon!"

Beams of light surrounded her as she followed the battle cruiser's trail, the thrust nearly crushing her into the seat as she heard the alarms continuing to blare. Then, a new alarm popped up, one that told her she was about to run straight into the enemy's aft.

"Oh, _quiznak -_ !" she grit her teeth and pulled up at the last second, veering just off its port side...nearly into a giant blue blur, " _Alfor's Beard!_ "

* * *

**(Aboard the Blue Lion...)**

"Whoa, bogey out of right field!" Hunk yelled in Lance's ear as he jerked a finger at the new alien craft that just jumped in front of them.

"Hang on!" Lance warned everyone before pulling up, causing the lion to rocket upwards and out of the careening craft's path, "Okay, what the heck was that?! Is that a new enemy?"

"I don't think so," Shiro spoke up as he noticed the ship fly in front of the lasers bravely...or perhaps stupidly, "Allies don't shoot each other."

"Whoever that is, I don't think their ship's gonna last very long," Pidge stared at the smoking engines and badly-damaged hull.

"Not our problem!" Keith reprimanded everyone, "If we don't do something, _we're_ not going to last long!"

"No...I think the lion wanted me to help them before. We can't just do nothing..." the young cadet piloting frowned at the mullet-head, "All right, okay! I think I know what to do!"

* * *

**(Aboard the Cutting Edge...)**

Curses flew from her mouth as she fought the controls, her limping ship barely dodging the laser show. When she noticed that the lasers weren't targeting her, however, she looked around and saw the battle cruiser's true target: a flying blue lion.

"...The Blue Lion..." she murmured, astonished and horrified at the same time, "No...it can't be - _guh!_ "

The Tracker was stunned momentarily by the lion's appearance, and it had cost her nearly half of the bottom of her hull. The alarms for "fire" and "malfunction" swarmed her HUD, but she waved them away and focused on dodging the lasers once more.

"Son of a...eat this!" she swung her ship around so that her blasters were facing the Galran ship, and fired her remaining shots.

It was a futile effort, but if this was how it was going to end, then she'd at least go out guns blazing. Just as she had, however, she noticed a blue blur pass by her, firing its own laser and razing a long, hot line of plasma against the cruiser's side, disabling the port side cannons. Amazed, the Tracker watched as it then ran to the battle cruiser's starboard cannons and raked its claws just above them on the surrounding hull, causing a trailing explosion that rendered the cruiser without weapons - save for the ion cannon mounted on its front and the tractor beam just beyond that.

"...Well I'll be..." she breathed as the Blue Lion passed her with a little roar, its head tossing as if to motion for her to follow it, "Wait, wait...hailin' frequency...c'mon, answer it..."

The Tracker grinned when the lion turned back and a screen popped up on her monitor, showing five humans - including Shiro - inside its cockpit. But just like the others, his face was mystified and confused. Her grin slipped a little when she noticed this, but brushed off the cold feeling that brushed her heart - now wasn't the time to feel emotional.

"Keep goin', I'm right behind ya," she spoke in her usual deep tone, surprising them when they could understand her. However, with the battle cruiser still behind them, there was no time for questions. The human in the pilot seat nodded to her and pushed his levers forward, urging the lion to continue onward. She did the same, although she cut the feed first. Just as there was no time for questions, there was no time for distractions either.

For a few minutes, both the Blue Lion and Cutting Edge danced beside one another, bobbing and weaving among asteroids as they hurried to keep ahead of the battle cruiser. Kerberos, the ice planet that Shiro had once spoken of, shined brightly on them, its white surface gleaming. The Tracker took a moment to stare at it before returning her attention forward, noticing a distortion rippling in front of them. When it turned into an ancient Altean portal, her eyes widened.

"Hey, we all decided we're going through there!" the cockpit of the Blue Lion appeared on her monitor once more, surprising her. Must've been the lion, clever machine.

"You comin' with?" he asked, and she nodded, "All right, guess we're all ditching class tomorrow!"

The Tracker's entire body tingled with both anticipation and fear. Every fairy tale and legend she'd ever heard of in her childhood were suddenly becoming reality - the Lions, Altean portals, the prophecy. All of them were coming true.

And she was right in the middle of it all.

With bated breath, the Altean watched as the Blue Lion disappeared into the center of the vortex, sparks and swirls of hypnotic blue light exploding around its frame. She hesitated for a brief moment, unsure of the mystical wormhole only spoken of by elders who've gone and passed, but with the enemy bearing down on her, she swallowed her emotions, straightened her spine, and pushed her craft right in after them.

' _Down tha Trublaxian rabbit hole we go...'_


	3. Time for Reflection - Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for a flashback - to when Shiro and Eighty-Four first met.

**Chapter 2  
**

**"A man's manners are a mirror in which he shows his portrait." - Johann Wolfgang von Goethe  
**

* * *

**(Aboard the Cutting Edge...)**

Wormhole. Why, oh why, did it have to be a wormhole?

" _Ghhhh!_ " Tracker 84-2009 grit her teeth against the force of the spatial phenomena, " _Hold...together..._ "

The Altean portal, while stable and well-built, was still a wormhole - a massive compression of space, light, and time that forced any and all who traveled through it into the same compact state. The Cutting Edge, battered and bruised by its lengthy battle, groaned as if in pain, metal squealing on metal as it tried to withstand the pressure. If worse came to worse, the entire ship would fold in on itself, and she'd come out fused to her ship - as a small compact ball of scrap.

" _Come...on..._ " she pleaded with her poor ship, but the vessel had seemingly given its all, and she closed her eyes tight as she felt the cockpit start to crunch inwards on her, " _NnngghhhhhHHHHH - COME ON!_ "

Desperate, the Altean bounty hunter shoved the lever in front of her forward, and she shot forward in the stream through the exit. Unfortunately, the sudden release of pressure caused the ship to explode outwards.

"AAAAGGGHHHH!" Tracker 84-2009 screamed, her cramped cockpit breaking away from the rest of the ship like a fireball.

She only had a few seconds before she saw the asteroid that drifted into her careening path...

* * *

**(Aboard the Blue Lion...)  
**

When Lance felt the pull of the wormhole lessen considerably, he rocked forward in the pilot's chair, breathless and beaming.

"Whoa...that was - "

"Pull up!" Keith yanked Lance's hoodie back before he could finish, forcing the pilot to boost above the wreckage of the other ship as it flew in their direction. The five teenagers screamed and cried out collectively as Lance maneuvered the alien space lion crazily, ducking and weaving between metal debris. Finally, the cadet found a moderately clear place to breathe, and Hunk threw up immediately, unable to handle all the stress.

"Ughh...so sorry," he managed to moan before returning to his heaving session.

"I'm just surprised it took him this long," Pidge shook his head.

Lance, on the other hand, was preoccupied with the insistent growling that buzzed in his mind. Following its wordless instruction, he turned the lion to look to the right, just in time to see a wrecked cockpit hurtle sideways against a nearby asteroid. Glass and metal crunched against rock in a sickening display, causing the asteroid to move a fraction while the cockpit shattered open, and a small gasp left the pilot when he saw a flailing body tumble out. It flipped head over heels through space at an alarming speed before it too smashed against another nearby rock. Lance winced when the floundering of its limbs stopped almost too suddenly, now floating limply at odd angles.

"Oh no..." Pidge noticed the same thing, drawing the rest of the boys' eyes to the still-unmoving pilot as it started to drifted away.

"I need to save him," Lance started to push on the throttle, but Keith grabbed his shoulder.

"Wait, we don't know anything about him! What if he attacks us when he's on-board?"

"So, what, I do nothing? Just leave him out there to die?"

"He could be dead already, for all we know. Besides, he's not our problem."

"Is that all you ever say, Mullet?"

"I'm thinking about our _safety_!"

" _Enough_!" Shiro's voice silenced the two younger teens, "Lance, Keith has a point. Our main priority is finding Voltron." Just as Lance was about to argue with him, however, the eldest of the group raised his hand and continued.

"But Keith, Lance also has a point. We're pilots, not murderers," the white-haired teenager looked back at the floating body, "And I have a feeling that whoever this is, they're not exactly friends with those aliens."

"So...'the enemy of my enemy is my friend'?" Lance asked, his hand squeezing the throttle gently in anticipation.

"Exactly," Shiro nodded.

* * *

**_...~~~..._ **

* * *

**_Log Entry 8022-015  
_ **

_Whoo...where ta begin this one..._

_***sound of inhaling smoke*** _

_Hmm. I've got a fair number o' bounties under mah belt. An' more than a few of 'em were tenacious._

_This one, tho'...probably had th' biggest pair I ever seen fer a century._

_It all started yesterday, out in the middle sectors..._

* * *

**_(At "The Ghorinian Gussy" Saloon, edge of Sector 56-X21...)_ **

Ah...the Ghorinian Gussy.

How Tracker 84-2009 loved this saloon. It was hard to find places like this anymore - on account of the Galra Empire's insistence on destroying every single planet in its conquering wake. But somehow, the old girl survived all of it - and still kept its rich history in tact.

To date, the bar had survived approximately 750 years, and used to reside on the aquatic planet Xufara, where bipedal, fish-like Xufarans were its ruling race - before the planet's Quintessence was taken, shattering the once-thriving planet into dry, grey asteroids. The Gussy, luckily enough, was more of a ship rather than an establishment during its conception, and had managed to escape the planet's destruction. But, it didn't stop the Gussy's original owner and one of the surviving Xufarans, Lurina Gax, from trying to return home - settling the Gussy on one of the larger asteroids in a stubborn fit, claiming that "she was born on that planet, and she'd die on that planet".

Equipped with anti-gravity aquatic barriers and a heavy security detail, it served home to the remaining Xufarans and culture - provided they worked for their keep. Floating bodies of water would fly through the smoky air, some containing exotic fish life that swam in glittering, shining schools, while others contained Xufaran waiting staff - handsome, charming males and bewitching, hypnotic females - carrying potent concoctions of the best liquor in the middle sectors. No fruity, lightweight kind - _hard liquor_ , just the way Tracker 84-2009 liked it. True to Xufaran taste, soaring stone columns, marble counters, and coral-like decorations gave the saloon a high-class polish, even though its patrons were not, and made the entire saloon feel as though it was underwater. It was no surprise when it also became a popular spot for other marine-based aliens and various space scum, gaining a reputation as being a safe haven, even from the Galra.

Little did the majority know, however, that the Ghorinian Gussy's safety was all due to monthly "protection" payments, made to a frequenting general of the Galra Empire. He would receive money, free room and board, and even liquor, and in return, the Gussy became a well-known secret among the middle-sector Galra soldiers. It was a tentative solution, but one that kept the Gussy in relative peace for the better part of those 750 years. Tracker 84-2009 kept this in mind when she entered the Gussy that day, holstering her gun and flashing a little identification badge to the group of Galran soldiers by the door, playing cards. They raised their heads, acknowledged her with a smirk or two, then went back to playing their game. She was dressed in casual wear - a navy-blue halter top that ended at her ribs, blue low-rise pants, and a heavy black short-jacket that hugged her figure.

"Phew...quite th' crowd t'day, Mylar," she called to the bartender sarcastically - a young, well-built Xufaran male with aqua scales - and grinned, "Did everybody hear you were bartendin', or did ya run outta liquor?"

"No, actually, I think it was...when they heard you were coming," Mylar raised a ridged eyebrow snarkily, "They went to get their chastity belts and restraining orders."

"Hmm, well thank Alfor's Beard ye're here, darlin'," the Altean woman spoke in a mock-husky voice, batting her eyes comically, "What time ya get off?"

"Oh, about an hour in, and I don't pull out."

The two of them stared at each other before breaking out in wide grins and laughing, enjoying the double entendre and customary, humorous greeting. Tracker 84-2009 had known Mylar for nearly 3 years, and there was no other bartender she trusted more with her drink preferences. Speaking of...

"One Jheri-Sha, no ice," Mylar slid the drink into her hands smoothly, the color bloody and almost sinister-looking, "On the house."

"Mmm, thank ye kindly," she purred as she tilted the glass of strong, biting liquor into her waiting mouth, "Now...seriously. What's with th' empty seats? Even Vlax ain't 'ere, an' he's _always_ here."

"There's a new bounty out," the Xufaran bartender let his water barrier envelop a small group of dirty dishes, letting his filtration system clean them, "And a handsome reward to go with it."

"...I'm listenin'," Tracker 84-2009 paused in her drinking, one nail tapping lightly on the clear glass.

"Rumor has it...that the Galra Military and the Druids are fighting over it," Mylar lowered his voice, his eyes flicking in the soldiers' direction.

"Huh...like a Vombuehl pig waitin' fer slaughter at an auction," she took a bigger swig of her drink, "They both drove th' price o' the bounty up ta get it first."

"Not the first time it's happened," the Xufaran paused in his cleaning, and his large, pitch black eyes gazed at her in unease, "But...it's the first time I've ever seen figures that large."

"Whup - larger than Mama Rhum's figure?" she grinned cheekily, but he didn't share her joke.

"I'm serious, Eighty-Four," he addressed her with her shorthand handle number, a term of endearment, "...There's a lot of money on this one. On _both_ sides."

"Hmmm...and lemme guess," Eighty-Four leaned on the counter, her eyes half-lidded in amusement, "Ye're gonna say 'stay outta this one', right?"

"It's a _stupid_ amount of money. As in, " _the kind that turns you, and every other bounty hunter out there into blood-thirsty morons_ " stupid. I don't want you in the middle of that."

The pale Altean swirled the Jheri-Sha in her hand, watching the red liquor reflect the light back prettily. Truth be told, she didn't have any particular need for money - her last few bounties would last her for at least the next two months - but something about the size of the rewards and the players had piqued her interest. The Galra Military and Druids only fought over one thing - recognition of their glory, in the name of the Galra Empire and Lord Zarkon. Behaving like ill-bred, but loyal dogs, the two factions bit and clawed at one another over their master's attention, and as such, devoted resources and time in trying to out-do the other.

It was a game of strategy that was decided by its pieces. And the better the pieces, the better the advantage one had.

' _Hmph. A piece like that..._ ' Eighty-Four tipped her head all the way back, draining the cup, ' _Might be worth lookin' inta._ ' Before she could thank Mylar and be on her way, he grasped her hand, his water barrier tingling along her skin.

"...You could stay," he offered, leaning forward so she could see the subtle glow of his scales defining the toned muscle under his thin shirt, "My shift's almost over...and there's a room open right upstairs."

Eighty-Four blinked. This was the first time since she'd met him that he invited her to his bed, and so brazenly. She'd tried casually flirting with him several times during their first year of friendship, but she took the hint after the fourth try, figuring that he wasn't interested in flings or considered their professional relationship more important. Now, he was using the sex card as a means of distracting her from going head-long into danger.

"Darlin'...if I weren't so offended by th' fact that I'd have ta be in _serious danger_ for ya ta sleep with me, I'd find ya so much sweeter," Eighty-Four used her free hand to pinch Mylar's chin, holding his gaze, "Now, let me go. Or I'll take ya up on yer offer, screw ya silly, steal yer valuables, an' leave ya naked in front o' Mama Rhum's for ya ta explain." He paled considerably at the mention of Mama Rhum, the large-bodied descendant of Lurina Gax and latest owner of the Ghorinian Gussy. She was well known for her voracious appetite, in food, money, _and_ males.

"You wouldn't..."

"Try me. I'm up on ya fer about a _hundred an' sixty_ _years_ o' experience, young'un," the bounty hunter slid the hand holding his chin up to cradle his cheek, repeating her words softly in a purr, " _One hundred...an' sixty._ Think about it."

The Xufaran male did, and he let go of her wrist reluctantly. Eighty-Four grinned widely and pulled away, but not before she blew him a kiss.

"Too bad, Mylar," she walked away with her hips swinging, the soldiers casting appreciative gazes as she came towards them, "Should've been firmer on tha' deal~. After all, this might be th' las' time ya see me if ye're right!"

Unbeknownst to her, a small part of Mylar did regret it, and he watched her saunter away with eyes glued to her backside.

* * *

"This is the prisoner," the Galran soldier downloaded the bare essential details to Eighty-Four's personal computer, "Do _not_ underestimate him. He defeated Myzax."

After her argument with Mylar, she managed to persuade one of the soldiers, Raxx to allow her to pursue the bounty for herself, and he took her outside to discuss the matter privately.

"Myzax? As in...'Champion', Myzax?" she raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

"He's not the Champion," Raxx corrected her, then spoke a low voice, "Not anymore."

A chill ran up Eighty-Four's spine. Myzax was a powerful gladiator in the Galra combat arena, one that even she wouldn't be so reckless as to tangle with. He'd ruled over that bloody ring for nearly a decade. What sort of monster could have possibly - no, so _decisively_ \- dethroned a Galra gladiator in his prime?

The pale Altean scrolled through the information to find the creature's mugshot...only to see a relatively weak and rather young being. It was smaller than Myzax in nearly everything, from muscle tone to height, even weight and arm length. Strangely enough, its appearance wasn't far from her own, save for the strange, malformed ears and lack of markings. But in spite of that, there was still something interesting about it. With deep, slate-colored eyes, black cropped hair, and light copper skin, she'd even go so far as to label it...'pretty'. Too pretty, in fact, like the house slaves you'd find in a swanky official's home rather than the pits of the Arena. _This_...was the creature responsible for Myzax's defeat?

"Hmm?" the soldier's voice brought her out of her thoughts when a warning came up on his screen regarding her information, "...I see. How unfortunate." Eighty-Four glanced at what he was looking at, and shrugged.

"It don't hurt none, an' they treated it," the pale bounty hunter shifted her weight to one hip, noting the way his eyes moved over her curves, "But...somethin' tells me that ain't why it's 'unfortunate'." Raxx cleared his throat uncomfortably before finishing the contract.

"Bring the prisoner here alive, and we'll wire the reward to you as per the usual," he nodded to her, and she got her smile back when she saw the long line of digits, eyes wide at the ridiculousness of it. Mylar wasn't exaggerating - it really _was_ a crazy, stupid amount of money.

"Hmm...this jus' gets more interestin' by tha tick," Eighty-Four chuckled, then turned to Raxx, "An' if ya bothered ta read up on it, ya'd realize it ain't contagious, before or after. But...yer loss."

With that, the Altean returned to her space ship, shaking her head at the soldier. Well, none of that mattered now. All that mattered was the hunt, and she'd get that bounty, if only to sate her curiosity.

* * *

First, Eighty-Four went to the space craft that held the prisoner - a supply ship that was bound for a nearby mid-sector station for the Combat Arena. She had some of the information from the report, but she needed more if she was going to capture it. And with a bit of sweet-talking and bribing, one of the Galran guards who had been aboard the supply ship talked easily.

Apparently, the escapee had complained of a blunt force injury that would incapacitate it for the next fight, which had panicked the support staff at the Combat Arena who were in charge of keeping a visiting Commander entertained. Unwilling to put their lives at risk, they hurried it onto the supply ship without authorization and tried to have it treated at the station quickly, which was the norm for most injured, but still favored Gladiators, and have it back in time to have its fight.

Which...was a mistake.

Eighty-Four shook her head at the obvious ploy. The prisoner, or "Champion", took advantage of their ignorance regarding its species' health specifics, and chose the right moment to fake an injury - during the entertainment of a high-ranking Commander. With their mental state disturbed, the support staff failed to question the things that should've been strange to a stable mind, and allowed the Champion to escape the Combat Arena. Aboard the supply ship, the prisoner was able to escape the medical bay after a brief tussle with one of the sentries, and figured out how to eject one of the escape pods. Programmed to find the nearest planet, the pod flew and landed on Sharai, a planet still being mined for Quintessence. And now, everybody had a head start on her, and combing Sharai for that bounty.

But that's what she couldn't wrap her head around.

This creature was from the outer sectors, a place not yet touched by the Galran Empire. It was also noted that planet seemed to still be in its adolescent, near primitive state. There was no way the Champion would have been able to understand how to eject the pod manually - at least, not from the inside. The outside was a completely different matter.

During states of emergencies, escape pods were able to be ejected from the outside with just a push of a button.

Eighty-Four looked through the series of events that occurred in the supply ship, as evidenced by the log, and it confirmed her suspicions - one of the sentries had sounded the alarm shortly after the Champion had escaped, throwing the ship into a state of emergency.

So...now that it was given the Champion had not been aboard the pod, there was only one place the creature could've been during its escape - still aboard the supply ship. And it had docked at the station as soon as it could to assess damage.

Following the trail, Eight-Four flew her ship to the mid-sector station as she continued to read the creature's file. This thing took down Myzak. It was smart, adaptive, coordinated. It wouldn't just choose to escape recklessly without having some sort of goal or plan of action.

Just as she pulled into the station's hanger bay, she understood at least one of its base objectives: it needed information. And there were several ways of obtaining. One was looking it up on a secured terminal, but again, she doubted the Champion would understand Galran language. The second was just as ridiculous as the first - taking one of the Galran soldiers hostage and making him talk. Galran psychology forbade sharing secrets with the enemy and would rather die than share. And so far, it didn't seem like anyone had gone missing - patrols were meant to check in every half-hour, and there would've been a lot more vigorous activity if anyone failed to check in. The last, which was her best guess, would be to try and eavesdrop for information. It was risky, with little to no chance of success, but it was the only way the creature could gather information. It should've already received the universal translator chip, so it would be able to understand Galran commands.

Eighty-Four stepped out onto the flight deck, dusting her hands off as she started her search.

' _Hmm...why would ya run away when ya ain't got a chance of gettin' off this station?'_ she wondered, hoping to narrow down her options, ' _Ye're here fer info, that I got. But what kinda info are ya lookin' fer?_ "

The Altean woman stopped when she saw a Galran soldier step off and greet his patrol buddies, his smile wide and his body language relaxed.

' _...Comrades...'_ She remembered seeing in the file that the creature hadn't been alone, not initially. He'd been with two others: an older, weaker one who was sent to the mines, and a tiny one that was sent into the Combat Arena with the Champion. After a small scuffle, however, the tiny one was injured and was also moved to mining duty.

' _All right, so ye're lookin' fer friends,_ ' she looked around the hanger bay, suspicious, ' _An' the best place ta eavesdrop...is right here. Ain't no betta place ta pick up info on minin' facilities than from th' guards comin' and goin' there._ '

Eighty-Four glanced around, found an inconspicuous corner with sparse amount of foot traffic, and moved towards it. She found a small crate for her to sit on, and smoothed crinkles in her casual clothes - which would be essential for the ruse. Finally, she pressed her hand to her ear, as if using her comm device.

"Hey, I finally got a break with tha' minin' business," the bounty hunter spoke loudly as she closed her eyes and focused her ears, trying to pick through the noises of the bustling hanger, "Came by fer a re-supply. By the stars, I gotta tell you 'bout one o' the prisoners I saw t'day. Uh-huh, looked jus' like me, 'cept for these...weird, round ears. I tell ya, I ain't never seen anythin' like 'em!"

Almost on cue, there was an almost imperceptible sound of shuffling just off to her right, muffled behind something.

"...Uh-huh. Yeah, thought th' little thing got its ears bitten off or somethin'," she continued the charade flawlessly, opening her eyes to examine her fingernails as if they were bothering her, "But no, it said it was _born_ tha' way. Can ya believe it? Poor thing..."

Again, something had started to move closer, and she could now pick out the individual footsteps. This creature walked so quietly, it must've had training before.

"Said it was lookin' fer its friend," Eighty-Four paused, as if she were searching for a name, "Don't remember what it called 'em, but I think...it was that new Champion?"

The creature was _right behind her._ She could hear the soft grind of its boots on the metal floor, and its breathing quicken.

"Yeah. I dunno, maybe I'll put in a request fer its transfer," she leaned back slightly on the crate, bringing one of her legs up while the other dangled, "It sure was cute, like one o' them Trublaxian rabbits. I could keep it like a pet. Or maybe I'll jus' eat it. Haven't decided yet."

Eighty-Four's combat knife was located just near the cuff of her pants, and if that creature made a move, she'd be able to whip it out in time for self-defense. However, the lengthy pause she gave it showed that the Champion wasn't the type to fall for a provocation.

Well then. Why not raise the stakes a little?

"Well, time ta get goin'," the bounty hunter stood up, stretching her back out pleasantly, "They're gonna need me on tha' las' run. An' it'll gimme time ta decide. Let's jus' hope it ain't dead by th' time I get back, it didn't look too good when I left. Yeah, had th' prisoners drillin' down there, an' the foreman said they hit a gas pocket. Not sure what kinda gas, but th' poor thing was coughin' up blood."

Eighty-Four moved towards her ship, using a small remote to open the cargo hatch at the back end of her ship. Then, she turned away from it, leaning on the front and continuing to pretend to talk into her comm device.

"Mhmm. Won't be long now. Listen, I oughta get goin' if I wanna make it back in time. Yeah. Yeah, I got it, see ya later," she finished the bogus conversation and turned to one of the nearby sentries, waving it over, "Hey, sentry. Got any extra crystals fer a 3.96 fusion drive?"

* * *

It'd been a short 20 to 25 minutes of haggling prices and quality, but Eighty-Four figured it should've been enough time for the Champion to take the bait. She carried the small crystal canister in her arm, cradling it against her as she walked towards her open cargo door. Truthfully, she really did need that crystal - her own was running low on Quintessence, and she'd be in for a long day if she got stranded in mid-sector space. Especially with the other bounty hunters still running around.

"All right, now what're ya gonna do, Champion?" she asked softly under her breath.

The stealthier move would be to lie low and wait, avoid making a fuss and sneak off the Cutting Edge when she landed at the mining colony - though the creature didn't know that she wasn't telling the truth. The other would be to try and take over her ship, force her to take it to the colony, and act as its hostage. It was riskier, but it'd gain a ship and a pilot.

However, no matter which move he'd make, it would have to happen after she got away from the station.

Eighty-Four's free hand moved to the small remote and pressed a button, which started flooding the cargo hold of her ship with dense, odorless gas. Tough situations in the past had forced her to make many of these like-minded traps around her ship. And it always came in handy when an uninvited guest decided to help themselves to her valuables.

She took a deep breath before heading straight into the hold, making sure not to take a single breath as she walked in calmly. The Altean scanned the space quickly, noting that nothing seemed out of place, and left the crystal against the wall.

' _Hmmm...did it go in or not?_ ' Eighty-Four wondered, but a loud thud and groan at the back of the hold resolved her question soon enough, ' _Well. That was easy._ '

She turned the gas off and the ventilation on, ridding the hold of gas before she released her breath. It wasn't a strong sedative, but it was powerful enough to at least disorient even the toughest of gladiators out for a good hour or two. Enough time to get it into the secure prison cell located behind her cockpit. Eighty-Four's boots clicked against the metal hull in a satisfying way, her walk a bit cocky as she found her bounty: lying on its side, a stolen Galra pulse rifle clutched loosely in its right hand. She kicked it out of the way and it went skittering over to the side, the creature's hand weakly reaching for it.

"Well, well, well," she grinned toothily as she squatted over it, "Lookit what I got 'ere: a stowaway. Mighty fine of ya ta drop in like this."

The Altean raised her hand and snapped her fingers a couple times in front of its face, helping it focus its groggy eyes on her.

"Hey, focus now. Ain't polite ta not look a lady in th' face. Now...lemme take a look at ya," she gave it a once over, trying to see if it needed medical attention or if the gas had messed with anything it shouldn't have. A bounty was only as good as its condition was when it was turned over. It also spoke volumes about how good a bounty hunter was at their job, and she liked to think she was the best of the best.

"Hmm...but my, my, ye're a pretty one, fer sure," she stated as she tilted its head up with a finger, making its eyes widen just a smidge, "Too bad I gotta take ya back ta the Arena. Can't have an Arena without a Champion, after all! An' let's not forget 'bout th' money!"

Eighty-Four looked up as she rose from the floor, opening a hatch that would take her to the upper deck of her ship and the prison cell. Before she could leave and get the cell prepped, however, the creature's hand latched onto her ankle, causing her to look down.

"...Shiro."

"...What?"

"Not...Champion..." the creature, who she was determining to be a male now judging by the deepness of his voice, spoke haltingly, "Shiro... _ma'am_."

The bounty hunter stared down at this...'Shiro'...with a quirked eyebrow, her mouth parted in disbelief.

"M-Ma'am?" she stuttered, and soon she was laughing, " _M-Ma'am?!_ "

Confused, the Champion looked up at her, eyes narrowed as her laughs echoed and bounced all over the cargo hold.

"Ohh...I didn't know I had a ' _genteel-man'_ on mah ship, bein' _proper_ an' all!" she howled, and his grip slipped on her ankle, "Wha's next? I tell ya mah name, an' ye'll bow while I curtsy?"

The sedative didn't prevent "Shiro" from shooting her a loathing look, and she held her stomach as it started to cramp from the laughter.

"Oh...okay, 'Shiroooo'," she articulated, rolling the name around in her mouth like she was still deciding on its flavor, "Whoooo...never laughed like tha' in...well, jus' 'bout forever. Ye're a funny one, but I don't dislike that."

Eighty-Four dipped back down as she wiped the tears from her eyes, pushing the bounty's shoulder with her foot so he'd flop onto his back. He gave a disapproving grunt, his eyes rebellious and narrowed.

"Hmmm...so serious," she sighed, and she reached up to ruffle the extra black tuft of hair above his forehead, "Well, I guess it can't hurt. After all, it's not every day I get ta meet a Champion."

The bounty hunter reached up and moved her bangs up, letting him see her fully without the light from the access hatch above blinding him. His eyes widened at the red and blue gems twinkling at him, set in a pearl-like face, with a set of four, thin and red arrow-like markings streaked against her cheeks.

"Mah designation is Tracker 84-2009," she grinned, letting him see that her smile had a rather sharp set of teeth, "But everybody calls me Eighty-Four. An' I'll be th' bounty hunter draggin' yer sorry-carcass back ta th' Galrans. Nice ta meet ya, _scum_!"

* * *

 


	4. Time for Reflection - Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of Eighty-Four's first encounter with Shiro, and vice-versa.

**Chapter 4  
**

**"The enemy of my enemy is my friend." - Unknown, 1884**

* * *

_**Log Entry 8022-015** _

**_*sound of exhaling smoke*  
_ **

_...I thought that was th' end of it. Found th' bounty. Secured th' bounty.  
_

_Point A ta Point B._

_Simple, right?_

_..._

_Well, I guess nothin's simple with tha' amount o' money._

* * *

_**(In the middle of Sector 54-X55...** **)** _

Silence.

Save for the mechanical purr of the Cutting Edge's engine and the occasional pop of space debris against her light barrier, the cockpit was locked in deafening silence. Eighty-Four flicked a switch meant for cruise control and sat back in her seat, sighing. This was usually how it went with most bounties. Either they threatened to kill or maim her in some way if she didn't let them go, or they sat in a dark corner of the cell and remained silent.

...At least he wasn't crying. Stars above, the ones that cried irked her. And it wasn't because of some sympathetic notion - rather, the ones who cried also tended to wet themselves, or bawled to the point where their mugs were messes indistinguishable from their asses.

And considering the 5-hour long trip they had ahead of themselves, Eighty-Four would prefer not having to clean anything up. Damn Galra - taking all the good hyperspace tech.

"Mmmm," she moaned as she stretched in her pilot chair. A few clicks broke the quiet, and she felt a wave of immense relief travel along her spine. She was used to long space rides, but today, something just felt off. Was it that it was too easy? Maybe. Or was it Mylar's warning?

...Nah. Eighty-Four grinned to herself, biting her lip as she remembered the way he offered himself to her. If anything, the only thing bothering her was the thought of Mylar's -

_"Hey."_

The pleasant fantasy flitted from her mind, frightened away by the Champion's voice.

"What?" she replied grumpily, refusing to turn her chair around.

"Did you even know them?" the alien prisoner's footsteps echoed in increasing volume, "All those things you said...were any of them true?"

Ah. The phony phone conversation. Eighty-Four lifted one of her legs to notch her ankle against her knee, propping her chin up on the palm of her hand. So he was worried about his little friend, too. Was it related to the bounty in some way? They seemed to be the same, at least biology-wise.

"Hey, answer me! Are they really dying?!" she could hear him pound against the frame of the cell.

"Well, maybe...maybe not," Eighty-Four swiveled her chair around finally, a small teasing smile on her lips, "Tell ya what. This here trip's gonna take a while. Why don't we play a game?"

"...Game..." the bounty stated in a deadpan voice, "A game?!"

"Mhmm," she stood up and started walking towards him. The prison cell was of a Mfaxian slaver design - simple, rectangular, 7 x 10 x 11 feet, and made of a transparent mineral called Revlem that repelled force at varying degrees, from half to 15 times the force received. It also had the basic amenities, such as a toilet and a bed...and no, the toilet wasn't covered.

She'd found out long ago that some aliens believed bathroom privileges were opportunities for escape. Little did they know that she had a laser-filtration system for waste.

...It didn't end well, for _anyone_.

"Jus' a li'l game," she leaned against the wall of the cell, keeping her back to him, "Ain't hard ta figure out. Y'see, if I ask you a question, you give me an answer - a truthful one. An' then you can ask me a question, an' I'll do th' same. Got it, scum?"

"...It's Shiro," he grumbled, clenching his fists at his sides, "...And yeah, I got it."

"Good," Eighty-Four gave a toothy grin.

To anyone who knew the pale bounty hunter, they'd tell you one thing: she was an opportunist, first and foremost. And her philosophy? Survival equaled knowledge. So, when combined, the scales were often level when it came to her life and her curiosity. In this particular case, the amount of GAC* for this creature was exorbitant, but she still wasn't seeing it. Why? Why this one? It was almost as baffling as his win against Myzax. Logic, odds, and stats were all against him. And yet he still managed to triumph. _What was his secret?_ All of these little scattered bits of thought swarmed in her mind, processing each fragment in tandem with the other.

Licking her lips, the Altean turned her head to look at him sideways, "Now...what's yer species' name?"

"Human," he replied automatically. The Altean cocked her head, her lips pursing together as she considered the word.

"Hyuuumaaaannn," she mouthed, trying to get the pronunciation right, "OK. Now it's ye're turn."

"My crew," his hands went up against the cell wall, a low buzzing warning him to avoid hitting it, "Are they still alive?"

"Would if I could, but I can't tell ya," Eighty-Four could only snicker at the way his face fell, then grew in anger. She only had past information, not current, so she really didn't know.

"You said you'd answer me truthfully!"

"An' I am! You jus' need ta answer th' right questions," she raised her arms above her head, stretching languidly against the Revlem, "Now, mah turn. What was Myzax's weakness?"

This "human" was too easy to tease, and a little naive. It was almost cute, if not for the murderous glare in his eyes.

"...His weapon," he sighed after he took a few deep breaths, calming himself, "If you count his strikes, you can attack him after the third strike while he has to recharge it. Now tell me! Please! Do you know anything about my crew?!"

"Yep," she uttered one word and let her lips fall closed again. Shiro stared at her in disbelief, then grimaced.

"...Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"THIS!" he yelled at her, and he slammed a fist against the Revlem, causing it to activate. A look of surprise and pain crossed his handsome features as an invisible fist rebounded into his abdomen, pushing a winded grunt out of him. He then fell to his knees, coughing lightly. It wasn't extremely painful, but it did catch him off-guard. Eighty-Four sighed and turned around.

"Because I can," she stated simply, her voice light and disinterested. The Champion looked up at her, his face a mix of shock and bubbling anger.

"...You're a _monster_."

"..."

Eighty-Four remained silent for a few moments, which prompted the prisoner to look up at her. And for a second, Shiro swore that her face changed. No smugness. No hidden smirk in her eyes or upturned corner of her lips. Just a half-lidded stare. And a frown. But in an instant, she went back to the same shit-eating grin she usually sported...or at least, a semblance of it.

"...Oh, was tha' supposed ta bother me? _Name-callin'_?" she raised her eyebrows in lazy amusement, chuckling softly.

Dark boots squealed as she knelt down to his level, her metallic hair falling over the right-side of her face as she reached behind herself. The human tensed, but she only scoffed at the reaction: it was just her Q-fumes, black cigarette-like cylinders that shot refined Quintessence straight into the consumer's lungs and the bloodstream. She patted the box with the heel of her palm, and popped one out. The smile hadn't dropped from her face, and it was starting to get a little unnerving.

"Darlin'...you think _I'm_ a monster?" Eighty-Four flicked the tip of the Q-fume with her thumbnail, sparking it, "Myzax slaughtered hunn'eds in that ther' dome, an' broken thousands in mind, body, an' soul. 'E earned his reputation through brutality, an' his name? Soaked in their _blood_."

She stuck the Q-fume into her mouth, sucking it slow. Eerie yellow light glowed from the end of it, and when she pulled the stick away to exhale, a thick stream of purple smoke smothered the surface of the cell. Shiro could only make out her silhouette and that bright neon glow of her Q-fume. Not that he cared to see her face at the moment...that smile of hers was starting to make his stomach twist in on itself.

The uneasiness reminded him of all the other aliens who'd stared at him after the gladiator match. Some of them were too far from human to recognize what emotions they displayed, but he remembered the gray one with the antennae. The one who had helped Matt when Shiro had thrown the boy to the side, fake-screaming for blood.

He was _terrified_. They _all_ were.

"An' you _beat_ 'im..." she let the words hang in the space between them, " _Myzax...th' Murderer_."

Eighty-Four leaned in close, blowing away the smoke so that her face could be seen. Her heterochromatic eyes peered at him darkly, making his heart drop and insides squirm unpleasantly.

" **Wonder what tha' makes you... _Shiro_?** "

...

...

...

She waited for him to respond, but the creature seemed to have shrunk inwards on himself.

"...What? Nothin' ta say?" she drawled, taking another hit from the cylinder perched on her lips, "Ye were so chatty before. C'mon. Tell me... _freak_...wha's mah name?" All humor had left her voice, and her words were spoken like a Corvanian snake, ready to strike.

"..." the human remained quiet, his eyes refusing to meet hers. Eighty-Four pulled away, a mildly dissatisfied and bored look on her face.

"...Pathetic," she stood up, flicked the Q-fume at the cell wall, and walked back to her chair, ignoring the way his shoulders twitched at her insult.

* * *

_**(Two hours later...** **)** _

The long-standing tension was palpable between the bounty hunter and her bounty. Ever since she shut him down, Eighty-Four dominated the space and could silence him with one sharp look. Even the slightest bit of rebellion or anger was snuffed out when she flicked those mismatched eyes at him.

And it surprised her.

Eighty-Four wasn't the type to be riled up often. She'd been called worse names than 'monster', by people who ranged from innocent to the worst trash in the galaxy. But something about this _human_ pissed her off. And the anger took root in her was something to fear. The hunter couldn't quite put her finger on it, but it probably had something to do with that holier-than-thou attitude he kept. Still, it wasn't like her to keep hold of a grudge for this long with no reason, and even she was starting to feel the strain of being so stiff and cold.

"...Scum," she spoke finally, eyes half-lidded, "I'm - "

**Warning. Warning. Lock-on detected. Lock-on detected.**

Her head snapped up, blue lights flashing in tandem with the ship's warning system.

"What's happening?!" It was like the Champion had woken up from a bad dream, his senses all focusing on the alarms.

"Nothin' good," Eighty-Four strapped herself in and thrust the ship's throttle forward, "Might want ta sit down, this might get bumpy."

The Cutting Edge shot forward in a burst of crystal propulsion, barely missing the large, wicked harpoon-like projectile that whizzed past the tail fin. Just as quickly as it had shot forward, however, it was drawn back with terrific speed towards another ship, one that had been previously cloaked. Eighty-Four spied the deep red and green colors as she turned her ship around, noting the familiar painted skull on the enemy craft's cockpit visor.

 _The Lurking Bane_. Without a second to lose, she hailed the ship for communication, and came face-to-face with an old acquaintance.

"Vlaaaxxx," she called out, slipping back into a comfortable grin, "Good ta see ya. Missed ya at th' Gussy earlier. Now, ta what do I owe this treachery?"

The other party, an old grizzled Vhobian soldier of fortune named Vlax, flexed a nonchalant smirk at her. His face was reminiscent of a red, bearded turtle, with yellow pupil-less eyes and jutting chin. A thin scar ran up the left side of his chin to the eyebrow crest, like a crack in a dinner plate.

"It ain't you I'm pickin' a fight with," his eyes moved behind her at the bounty, "It's him."

Eighty-Four glanced behind her with a raised eyebrow before focusing on Vlax again.

"This prisoner ain't even been in th' system fer a month, an' he's causin' ya trouble?" She gave a little half-lidded smirk, "Puh-lease. We've known each otha fer a while now, Vlax. Ya can be honest with me! Ye're innit fer th' reward, aren't ya?"

"...Part of it," he admitted, tilting his head in acknowledgement, "But 'e did cause me trouble! By defeatin' Myzax!"

"Oh no...ya didn't..." Eighty-Four sighed, shaking her head. Vlax had a bit of a...gambling problem. And by bit, Eighty-Four really meant 1.4 million credits deep in loan sharks and Galran servitude.

At least, that's as far as he'd been in last time.

Vlax was able to pull himself out of the hole often by running a few bounties and missions for the Galra Empire, but that didn't stop him from continuing his old habits. Usually, his favorite place to hole up was the Ghorinian Gussy, where gambling and alcohol went hand-in-hand, and made him a great drinking buddy. Eighty-Four liked to pester him playfully on his wins and losses, especially when he lost more than he could afford - and he liked to complain affectionately that she was like a nagging wife.

"Vlax...what did ya even bet on? Myzax's always th' favorite," Eighty-Four leaned on her armrest, drumming her fingers.

"...Th' seconds it'd take ta kill 'em," Vlax mumbled glumly, one of his reptilian hands scratching the side of his face.

"' _Them_ '..." she repeated in a deadpan voice, "...As in...ya bet on more than one fight...?"

"Hey, I had a chance! 'Til that _thing_ took 'em from me!" He jabbed a sharp claw in the bounty's direction, and Eighty-Four sighed again, "All seven of 'em, includin' th' one 'e injured in th' beginning!"

"...An' ye're lookin' to bring his hide in as even," Eighty-Four nodded, making an understanding face, "Well, t'day might be yer lucky day. I ain't lookin' fer a fight, an' I don't need th' money. Plus...he's gettin' on mah nerves."

Behind her, the Champion cast his eyes downward and leaned against the bed. Vlax made a perplexed face, and she had half a mind to ask him if he understood what she was proposing.

"So...ye'll give 'im to me?" His tongue, dark purple and swollen, darted out to lick one of the various, sharp prongs that showed when he opened his mouth.

"Ah! If ya hadn't tried ta tag me, maybe," she wagged her finger, as if she were scolding a child, "But now, I think we go in t'gether. Ya can have th' money, but I get th' credit. Not everyday ya get ta bag yerself a bounty that defeated Myzax."

"..."

"C'mon Vlax, ain't a bad deal," the Altean jerked her head towards the prisoner, "Ye'll still see 'im get dragged away, all while settlin' th' debt he owes."

"..."

"An'...we can share a nice relaxin' time at th' Gussy, jus' as always," she softened her grin into a glowing smile. And she didn't give those out often.

"Vlax...Vlaaaxxxx~," Eighty-Four called to him, "We friends...ain't we?"

Her buttery words and smiles soon turned the hardened veteran into a goofy-grinning turtle, and all was right with the world. Shiro watched the exchange in equal parts fascination and disbelief. A few minutes ago, the enemy was about to skewer the both of them, and now they were acting like the best of friends.

"Heh, I guess," he pushed forward on his controls, angling his ship to run parallel with hers, "Why didn't ya say all that in th' first place?"

"Uhh...ye're th' one who tried ta stick a harpoon up mah ass, ya _quiznak_."

* * *

**_(One hour later...)_ **

Shiro sat on the bed, gripping the edge of it tightly as he watched the two bounty hunters gab and talk, ignoring him. As if he wasn't in the room, or that he wasn't the "bounty" they were talking about. It was maddening.

"So, how much're ya gonna have after this?" Eighty-Four, the woman, asked.

"Heh, luckily, Galra military pays well," Vlax, the turtle, replied smugly, shaking his beard pompously, "I could pay off everythin' I owe an' still have enough fer my vices."

"I'd say it might be betta ta keep yerself away from th' gamblin' circuit fer a while, but..." the female shrugged, her pointed ears bobbing beyond the chair, "Tha's like tryin' ta stop a dying star from explodin'!"

The turtle roared in laughter, ending in a few coughs and wheezes.

"Ya know me too well, babe!" Vlax grinned, then sighed, "...But it ain't too late fer _you_ , Eighty-Four."

"...What?"

"I mean...we've known each otha fer a while," he looked uncomfortable, but determined, "Ye're like a daughter ta me. An' I'm sayin' th' same things I'd say if I had any kin of mah own...left..."

Sadness permeated the small space of Eighty-Four's ship, and Shiro felt a twinge of pity. Despite the predicament he was in, he could tell that the two aliens talking weren't completely lost. And Eighty-Four, especially, wasn't as cold as she seemed. He had crossed a line earlier, one that had set her off and caused such a strong response - it left him questioning _himself_. Of course, he still hadn't forgotten it, but seeing her talk to the other alien made him see her in a new light. Not necessarily all positive, but enough to know she wasn't as inhuman as the "Galra".

"Vlax..." she whispered uncertainly.

"Th' Galra Empire's all but forgotten 'bout ya. Ya ain't owin' 'em nothin', an' ya ain't owin' to nobody else 'cept yerself," Vlax huffed, pushing a hot puff of air out of his tall nostrils, "Jus'...git yerself away. Don't go do nothin' stupid, like joinin' them rebel forces or anythin'...an' jus' live yer life out there. Settle down, have a family, or at least someone ta keep ya warm at night."

"Well, I have you fer that, Vlax~," Eighty-Four seemed to be trying to play off the emotion and atmosphere, but even Shiro could tell the old alien was being serious.

"Shut it, ya twerp," he gave a small smirk, but quickly reverted back to his grim expression, "...I mean it. No more playin' th' field like ya've been doin', or doin' dirty jobs like we've been doin'. I taught ya a lot 'bout th' business an' how ta survive in this universe, but...th' only thing worth havin' in this miserable life is a family ta belong ta. Promise me. No matta what happens, ye'll find that."

Shiro stared at the two of them, and noticed Eighty-Four's shoulders pinch together.

"...Why? Ye're talkin' like yer goin' ta die or somethin'..."

"Nah, but mah Vhobian gut worm is actin' up," Vlax straightened his posture, "An' I've learned ta trust mah worm."

"Heh, you an' yer worm," she shook her head, flashes of her steel-blue hair jostling around the edges of her chair, "But...I understand. I'll...give mah word. When I'm good an' done with all this...I'll find a family. Maybe even a few kids."

Vlax gave a small smile, which then turned into a great big grin. "Oh yeah? Ya gonna birth 'em or adopt?"

"Feh, depends on who I get," Eighty-Four leaned forward and flipped a few switches, "Haven't been leanin' any which way more than th' otha, so..."

"Thought ye were sweet on that there Mylar boy?" the turtle looked right, then left, "Or was it that Swindy gal from th' Sphere?"

Shiro couldn't help but flush a little at the implication. It wasn't as though those types of relationships were uncommon on Earth, but hearing it as eavesdrop felt strange. Sexual orientation was something private, one that you revealed only when you felt comfortable, and Shiro was fairly sure Eighty-Four was far from being a friend.

"Like I said, haven't decided," she smirked, unaware of Shiro's squirming, "What can I say, I'm irresistible.~"

"Ye're a flirt, an' boys an' girls alike ought ta stay away from ya."

"Keep sayin' that, an' I won't let ya see mah kids."

* * *

**_(Two clicks outside the Ghorinian Gussy...)_ **

Finally, both the Cutting Edge and the Lurking Bane pulled into relatively near air space to the Gussy. Eighty-Four slowed her craft down and scanned the asteroids for signs of the Galra Military folk she'd signed with. And sure enough, Raxx was waiting for them, sitting on a boulder outcropping and waving. The rest of his squad was standing at attention, facing outwards.

"Well, lookit that," Eighty-Four grinned, her bounty's face dismal, "Ain't you lucky? A whole escort, _jus' fer you._ "

"...Please," the human pleaded, though he didn't seem to hold much hope, "Just tell me...are my crew members all right? Are they still alive? I need to know...I haven't seen them in a month, and I can't have escaped for nothing..."

Eighty-Four slowed her ship just a bit, considering his plea. With a flip of her hair, she shook her head.

"Then ye never should've escaped at all," she reasoned, shrugging her shoulders.

"...Fine. Then, at least...I want you to know that I didn't escape just to insult you, either," the Altean blinked in surprise at the Champion's words, "I'm sorry I called you a monster. Figured I might as well tell you...before they take me away."

Well. That was unexpected.

In all of her years of hunting, never had Eighty-Four received an apology like that before. Sure, there were the crying ones who begged forgiveness, and the ones who said it in nasty sarcasm before she blew their brains out, but... _hmm_. Never had she heard an apology made just because a bounty thought they'd hurt her _feelings_ of all things. It just didn't plain make sense to her. To what end did apologizing serve, when she was about to drag him off for capital punishment? Eighty-Four frowned, and scratched the back of her head.

Hmm. _Hmmmm..._

This was bothering her more than it should. And she didn't like it. Eighty-Four groaned inwardly, knowing that what she was doing went against her own code of ethics (or what little ethics she had), but it wasn't like she was going to see the kid again...right? And who knows, maybe the Champion would go on to bigger and better things - as the old saying went, 'connections, connections, connections'.

"Yer crew's...alive," she spoke up finally, quiet and low, "At least, as far as I know. Th' older one got shipped out ta the crystal mines, an' th' younger one went ta th' metal mines."

"So they're not dead?!" he jumped up and put his hands to the cell wall, surprised that she answered at all.

"Las' I heard...no," Eighty-Four turned her head around finally, her eyes half-lidded, "If yer crew's alive, they're at them mines. Provided they didn't do nothin' stupid, they're probably fine."

"...Thank you," he slid down, his head pressed against the glass-like substance in breathless relief, "Thank you...thank you..."

"Don't thank me yet," Eighty-Four shook her head, "Ye're still gonna be handed over. Vlax's a good friend, I ain't aimin' ta make 'im mad. An' if ya speak one word o' this conversation outside this ship, I'll climb in that dome an' kill ya m'self. Got it, scum?"

"Yeah," Shiro sighed, then looked up, "Wait...why bother telling me anything? I thought you hated me?"

"Puh," she scoffed in disappointment - more with herself than anything, "We ain't known each otha long enough ta 'hate'. An' we ain't gon' know each otha fer much longer."

"...You still didn't answer my first quest - "

"And ya ain't gonna git one," she hissed, preferring Vlax's gut worm chewing her tongue off than admitting that his apology might have possibly affected her in any way or shape. The frowning bounty hunter glanced at him from the corner of her eyes, watching him retreat back to the bed with a shrug and a smile. And to her mild surprise, she smiled, too.

In spite of the moment, however, Eighty-Four was still intent on following through with the deed. She was a bounty hunter, after all, and this was her job. She landed her ship shortly, letting it settle on the expanse of rock in front of the Gussy rather than parking it in the lower hangers. She then proceeded to march the human out in handcuffs, dressed up in the spacesuit equivalent of a straight jacket. Vlax had landed beside her, and Shiro managed to get an eye-full of the grizzled veteran fully - the closest comparison he could make would be a red leatherback sea turtle, his body hulking and intimidating. Swathed in dark green armor from head to toe, his club-like arms wielded a massive, overloaded shotgun and what looked like a battle-axe laid across the shell on his back.

"Time fer payback, ya _quiznak_ ," Vlax guffawed triumphantly, pumping the gun once and priming it.

Eighty-Four ignored the exchange as she stared at Raxx and the soldiers in front of her. Something was wrong here...why weren't they getting up to take the bounty off her hands? Raxx was still sitting on a rock outcropping nearby, waving his hand, and the soldiers were so stiff and still, it looked like a strong breeze could knock them over.

That's when she saw the dark liquid beading at a hole where Raxx's temple should have been, the gravity-less space keeping the blood from dripping down properly. Turns out Vlax's gut worm wasn't acting up for nothing.

"...Come out!" Eighty-Four kept hold of her human captive with one hand, and drew a gun with her other, "I know ye're there!"

Raxx's arm stopped waving slowly, then fell limply against his side. At the same time, another alien emerged from behind the soldier's body, now presumed corpse, and shoved it aside. Similarly, other aliens came out from behind the stiff bodies of the other soldiers and let them drift without a care. Vlax tensed and held his shotgun carefully, aimed in a wide spread against the increasing number of strangers, who were dressed in dark robes.

"Druids..." he whispered to his companion, and Eighty-Four narrowed her eyes.

"Tracker 84-2009," spoke the leader of the group, the one who had been holding Raxx's body, "How good to see you again."

Her mouth twitched into a slight frown. The feeling wasn't mutual.

"As you can see, these _soldiers_ have had a little accident, so they won't be able to pay you properly. We, on the other hand, are more than willing to compensate you for your troubles and any grievances this may have caused you," the cursed Galra raised his hand and pointed at the bounty, "As long as you hand over the Champion."

Vlax started to lower his gun slowly, but the Altean bounty hunter tapped her gun's barrel against his arm. He glanced at her and she raised a brow pointedly, showing skepticism at the situation. This was just a show, and she knew it - after all, Druids didn't need guns to kill. A small twitch of her lips hinted to Vlax the plan she had in store, and she eased into a comfortable grin.

"All right," Eighty-Four walked the bounty in front of her, keeping him close, "One Galra faction's as good as th' otha."

She leaned in close behind Shiro, whispering to him as she slipped her pistol between his arm and his torso. The feel of it made him stiffen, but she squeezed his bound wrists firmly.

"Don't worry," the Altean kept her half-lidded eyes trained on the leader's outstretched hand, "This ain't fer you. I'll keep ya safe...jus' stay still."

Step by step, Eighty-Four guided her bounty closer to the "Druid", until they were only a few feet from each other.

"Tell me...how's Velmar?" she asked suddenly, and the robed figure twitched, "She doin' well?"

"Yes, fine, she's with Haggar at the moment," he said hurriedly, his tone a little less reserved and a little more anxious, "Not all Druids have time to deal with bounty hunters, especially ones as slow as you."

"...Ye sure? 'Cause Velmar's th' name o' mah first bounty," Eighty-Four smirked, and Vlax aimed down the sights of his shotgun at the fake Druids, "An' **he** died 40 years ago, in Max-Pris."

For a brief moment, both parties froze...then all hell broke loose. Before the head of the group could draw, she fired her pistol, causing Shiro to cry out as he felt the blast firmly against his side. The leader took a nice-sized slug to the chest, flinging him backwards, while Vlax fired off two well-placed spreads, catching a few in the legs and stomach. Pulling off their robes, the group revealed themselves as rival bounty hunters - and if she were the poetic type, she'd say she saw the GAC in their eyes as clear as a Xanthorium crystal. Recognizing that they were outgunned and outnumbered, Eighty-Four and Vlax gave each other cover fire as they hauled themselves to a nearby rock outcropping. Once situated, they sandwiching Shiro between them and each took a side to defend. Eighty-Four smirked at Vlax - this certainly wasn't the first time it'd been a few against many in her days, and having Vlax near only made the fight more fun.

"How astute!" the head hunter grunted loudly, revealing himself as a traitorous Hraxian toad named Vimbluuk, "Then again, you'd know the difference between a real Druid and fake, wouldn't you? _Pet?_ "

Eighty-Four sneered and withdrew her pistol from her prisoner's side. She pushed down on the boy's head, keeping her charge low as she peeked over the boulder.

"Anyone coulda guessed that," she narrowed her eyes as she counted the enemies - 12 still standing, "Druids ain't th' portly type!"

"Why you little - fire! And avoid hitting the Champion!" Vimbluuk stood up slowly, his arm clutching the dented armor on his chest, "He's useless to us dead!"

Mercilessly, the other bounty hunters fired upon their little shelter, and caged them in. Dust and bits of their rocky outcropping kicked up in the deadly barrage, and clouded the veteran hunters' visions.

"So...'bout tha' plan ya cooked up?" Vlax grunted when a stray laser ricocheted off the rock face...which wasn't very far from his own face. Their little shelter was getting smaller by the tick, and flanking was becoming easier for their enemies.

"C'mon, ain't ya never been in a shootout before?!" Eighty-Four grinned, her red eye flashing peculiarly under the circumstances.

"Shootout, yeah!" he huffed as a flanking hunter took a potshot at him, and promptly delivered several rounds of pump-action into their face, "But I ain't never faced twenty-two guns ta three!"

Eighty-Four gave an insane whoop when she threw a small device over the tallest edge of the boulders, and a few agonized screams joined the sound of an explosion shortly after.

"Make that..." she glanced backwards as body parts flew up and over their heads, "Eighteen ta three!"

Suddenly, all the shooting stopped, and the pair stared at each other. Vlax grinned victoriously, shouldering his shotgun.

"Heh. Ya think they might've - !"

***SLAM***

"...V-Vlax?"

Eighty-Four's eyes were wide as she saw a small, but wicked-looking harpoon jutting from Vlax's shoulder, through the stone. It wasn't unlike the Lurking Bane's own, but much smaller in size, and she followed the line to Vimbluuk. He gave a cruel smirk, and jerked the line, causing Vlax to cry out in severe, choking pain. Struggling, he tried to rip free from the sharp object, but it hooked him firmly to the rock - trapping him. Moreover, it had torn a good-sized hole in his shoulder and suit. If he moved any more, he'd let in the cold space air, and freeze to death.

"Stop movin'!" she ordered immediately, scrambling to stop the turtle from thrashing about, "MORON, STOP IT!"

"I-I can't help it!" he whined, though he managed to tone it down to shaking, " _Quiznak_ , it hurts!" Long years of youthful victory had built a solid reputation for the old warrior, but in his old age, he'd grown accustomed to drink and comfort. Now, faced with pain once more, Eighty-Four could see that Vlax had lost his trained tolerance and fortitude.

"Gettin' stabbed _usually_ hurts!" Eighty-Four took some adhesive gel from her belt and slathered it on, ignoring Vlax's hissing, "There...oughta buy us some time. But we need ya somewhere safe before we can git a good look at it."

The pale hunter looked to the right, at the Gussy, and knew that he'd at least be safe from exposure if he could reach it. Which meant winning this little battle _now_.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," the slimy toad clicked his tongue, "It's such a shame. People used to quiver at the name of 'Vlax', one of the last Vhobians alive - who carried with him a rage that was equivalent to a thousand dying suns! Now...he's just a drunk, and a pathetic one at that. Barely worth the credit of killing him, like putting an old mutt out of his misery."

"You shut yer filthy mouth, toad!" Eighty-Four roared at him, focusing on keeping Vlax still, "When th' Galra find out 'bout ya killin' their kin, they'll gut ye like th' coward ya are!"

"Ooohh, I'm so scared," he mocked, raising his hands and twiddling his fingers, "Dear me, whatever shall I do? Oh, but wait! It wasn't me, officers! It was that dirty Altean dog...biting the hand that fed her. Ten thousand years later, and they still carry such hatred for the Galra race! Better put her down before she goes rabid!"

Her temper rose and snapped the thin layer of calm she'd managed to keep, and Eighty-Four began to rise from Vlax, fully intending on planting one of her beautiful bullets in between those sideways eyes. However, when she reached for her right-hand gun, she found it missing.

"...What the _quiznak...?_ " she searched herself, but it was nowhere to be found. That's when she realized she hadn't been paying attention to the very thing that had started this whole fight - the Champion. Eighty-Four looked around and saw a pair of broken handcuffs on the ground beside her. Then, a slight movement caught her eye, allowing her to spot him hiding under the landing ramp of her ship. He was trying to escape!

' _That dirty little..._ ' Eighty-Four cursed herself, ' _He's stealin' mah ship!_ '

Before she could call him out, though, the bounty did something unthinkable - he stepped out towards the enemy bounty hunters and held her pistol to his head.

"Enough! Leave them alone," he ground out, and kept the gun firmly pressed to his head, "Or I'll shoot and you'll get nothing."

"...Heh," Vimbluuk and the other hunters stared at the human, nervous, "You couldn't possibly..."

"You think I'd let myself be captured by the Galra again?!" the Champion yelled, startling Vimbluuk, "I'd rather die than go back!"

Eighty-Four blinked in confusion. Her impression, as she had gathered, was that he was a fighter, and a smart one at that. 'Live to fight another day' type of guy. And moreover, dying would mean leaving his crew behind, and she knew he valued them over all else.

"N-Now take it easy," the Hraxian toad held his hands up, trying to calm the crazy prisoner.

"No! I'll do it!" the Champion growled, letting his finger go into the trigger hold, "So back...off..."

They did as he was told, and that's when Eighty-Four noticed what position they were in - right in front of the high beam conduits on her ship. Formulating a plan, she took Vlax's shotgun and switched it from 'lethal' to 'stun', praying that the old function worked. Then, she took out a small remote and held it ready, waving her hand to the human to gain his attention. When she got it, she put a hand over her eyes, signaling him to close them.

"We'll do whatever you want," Vimbluuk pleaded, desperate, "Just don't kill yourself! The money you're worth is enough to live my lifetime four times over, comfortably!"

"Then...you better not blink," the Champion spoke lowly, confusing Vimbluuk when the human ducked his head into his arms, "Now!"

Eighty-Four switched the remote on, covering her own eyes as her lights turned on and blinded the rest of the hunters. With Vlax's shotgun in tow, she charged for her enemies, and fired - resulting in both a stun blast that hit the entire group, and the old weapon exploding in her hands. The female hunter was blown back by the force, her hands tingling and raw from the energy that had come undone and practically melted the metal of the shotgun out of her hands.

"...Ughhh..." she groaned as she struggled to stand upright, " _Quiznak_..."

However, even at the cost of her arms, the battle had been won. Vimbluuk and his cronies all were knocked out cold, yellow electricity arcing from their forms and tethering them to the Gussy's asteroid. She turned to look for the priso-...ahem, _Shiro_...and found herself staring down the barrel of her own gun.

...Heh. Ballsy kid.

"Take me to my crew," he demanded, although his tough demeanor faltered when Eighty-Four's hands were still smoking from the shotgun's demise, "...After we take care of your wounds."

"...Hahahhahahahaaa," she started laughing, a sort of bubbling raw laughter that was almost too innocent for a bloodthirsty bounty hunter. Here he was - prime opportunity to get rid of his last pair of enemies, and he was choosing to save them rather than send them off to the great abyss beyond. Don't that just beat all?

"You...hit your head, didn't you?" Shiro asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Naw. Jus'... _baffled_ ," Eighty-Four sighed, leaning her head back and closing her eyes, "Yer a strange one. Anyone ever tell ya that?"

"Depends on who you ask."

"Mmmm-hhahaha...if we weren't in space, I'd kiss ya fer all yer worth, kid," she gave a little smile, which turned sultry, "Which's...a _lot_ if yer wonderin'..."

Surprised, the compliment and... _offer_ caught him off-guard. Which is what Eighty-Four was anticipating, and allowed her to launch a roundhouse kick to his temple. With the air being frictionless, Shiro's head careened into the rock just behind Vlax, and the wounded warrior grunted when he felt the boy's impact into the rock face. A soft groan emanated from the human, and Eighty-Four kneeled by him, watching his eyes go in and out of focus.

"Told ya girls an' boys should stay away from ya," Vlax chuckled breathlessly, having finally stopped struggling, "Dangerous flirt that ya are."

"Hey, he was th' one with th' gun, remember?" Eighty-Four started moving her arms gingerly, the feeling slowly creeping back into them, "Now c'mon...let's get ya some help there..." Her arms were still raw, but she could fight through the pain, her enormous, stubborn pride being a strength more than a weakness at the moment.

Using her reclaimed pistol, she shot the back end of the harpoon, causing a new flash of pain to run through Vlax.

"Gah!" he kept tight hold of the harpoon, grimacing, "Couldn't have warned me?"

"Then ya would've tensed," she pat his non-wounded shoulder nonchalantly, "Would've caused th' wound ta bleed more."

While Vlax tried to work out if what she said was correct, Eighty-Four went back and used her foot to float his body upwards. Woozily, he tried to resist, but she just wheeled him towards the Gussy effortlessly, following a limping Vlax. The Altean woman looked down at his face, his eyes closing blearily as he fought the urge to slip into unconsciousness.

"...I still can't let ya go, scum," Eighty-Four told him quietly, her expression serious for once, "But...I owe ya a debt. I can teach ya somethin', but ya can't tell nobody - even mah friend here."

He gave an unsteady glance at Vlax, but managed to nod.

"Galran sentries ain't that hard ta avoid," she continued pushing, whispering to him as she put a finger on his chest, "Used ta use this trick ta avoid sentries when I used ta break out m'self."

"...You...?" he asked, and she grinned.

"Ain't ya heard?" Eighty-Four raised her eyes, her ears lowering as she gave a solemn frown, "The Galra Empire rules most galaxies nowadays, an' fer longer than anyone's lived, 'cept for Lord Zarkon. As it stands now... _n_ _o one's_ **born** _free.._.not anymore."

Shiro sobered up from the hit greatly after that statement. It sounded so dismal, but her tone was...plain, if anything. As if it were the norm. And maybe that made it all the more sad.

"Anyway, th' key's rhythm," she started tapping in ticks, counting up to 8, "Time between patrols might be different than it was when I was in, but theory oughta work th' same. Jus' tap in time with their steps. Easy as tha'."

"...Thank you," Shiro spoke softly.

"Feh, _don't_. I don't like owing favors, an' I ain't yer friend," she slipped back into a sour disposition, "An' don't let me catch ya in these mid-sectors again. I ain't bailin' ya out next time."

"...So, just aim for mid-sectors. Got it."

"...Wait, whuh? No, no, no - I jus' told ya - grrrrhhhhh..." Eighty-Four massaged the area between her eyes, groaning. The kid was already learning tricks.

_She knew she'd regret this..._

* * *

_**Log Entry 8022-015** _

_So...me an' Vlax turned him over, got our respective rewards, an' celebrated at the Gussy.  
_

_I tell ya, humans mus' be one amazin' breed o' alien. They ain't big or nothin', but what they lack, they make up fer in guts._

_Too bad this was th' last time I got ta see him._

_..._

_Eighty-Four. Out._

* * *


	5. Dinner and a Show

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so begins the gambit.

* * *

**Chapter 5**

**"Plans are worthless, but planning is everything." - Dwight D. Eisenhower, November 14, 1957**

* * *

**(At the Castle of Lions, aboard the Blue Lion...)**

' _What is this place?_ ' Shiro wondered, his dark grey eyes scanning the image before them. The landscape wasn't much different from the lusher parts of Earth - miles of shimmering, vibrant lake water surrounded by greenery as far as the eye could see - but the castle was something never before seen. Tall white spires, topped with neon blue crystals, and a large runway that fit the Blue Lion warship almost too perfectly. Lance's deduction that this was its home wasn't so far of a stretch anymore.

"Keep your guard up," Shiro warned the cadets, and Pidge looked up in worry.

"Something wrong?"

"My crew was captured by aliens once, I'm not going to let it happen again."

"Okay, then what do we with him?" Lance turned his head to the left, referring to the bound unconscious alien at the back.

Shiro and the rest of them turned to follow Lance's direction. After they'd rescued him, Shiro had managed to quell Keith's protests by binding the unknown alien's hands behind his back. Then, they attempted to wake him for a short time until Lance's lion seemed to get impatient, and started towards the blue planet.

"We're not leaving him in the lion," Keith spoke first, eyes narrowed, "It's one of the five parts of Voltron."

"Seconded," Pidge backed Keith, adjusting his glasses, "But does that mean we're taking him with us? The armor he has on is pretty heavy..."

"We could take the armor off," Lance offered, the brown-haired cadet getting out of his seat, "And...I kinda wanna see his face."

With an eager grin, he took the initiative and knelt by the rescued alien, his sneakers squeaking in the small space. It was the Blue Lion that had told Lance to save the unconscious stranger, and he'd be lying if he said it didn't make him curious. His fingers splayed out over the strange chest plate, noting that it was tough and worn, then moved to hook under the helmet's chin. Everyone waited with bated breath as Lance lifted up, but found the helmet stuck.

"What?" the brunette breathed, then strained against the powerful suction, "Why can't I...it's stuck!"

"Let me try," Keith shoved Lance out of the way and tried it himself, but the outcome was the same, "It won't come off..."

"Leave it alone, then," Shiro approached the body and gave it an experimental pull, testing the weight, "If we're getting any answers, we need to get moving. I can carry him."

However, as Shiro started to sling the alien over his shoulder, Hunk stopped him.

"Whoa, whoa, wait. You saw how he hit that asteroid! He's injured, you can't carry him like that," Hunk took the armored stranger off of Shiro and carried him bridal style instead, "There we go..."

"All right, that settles it. Hunk's carrying him," Lance shrugged, and Hunk made a small reluctant face, "What? You think any of us are capable of carrying him? And Shiro's our leader."

"But...ughhh," he shifted his charge to a more comfortable position, "Fine...just know that if this thing wakes up and starts attacking me - with, I don't know, weird tentacles or something - I'm throwing him at you first, Lance."

"Got it. _"_

* * *

In a tight, close-knit group, the five humans and their unconscious captive departed from the lion. Hunk kept his charge close, keeping the head tucked against his right shoulder. He still had a bad feeling about all of this, but holding the body somehow comforted him, in spite of what he said to Lance. What didn't comfort him, however, was the sudden roar that ran up his back like the time Lance blasted him with 114-decibel speakers from the electronics store. That had nearly blown out his hearing, and they were never to return lest they earn the ire of the manager again.

"No, no, I knew it was going to eat us!" Hunk hugged the motionless body to him like a large stuffed animal, then scurried behind Shiro as rumbling echoed behind him. When he saw that it was the door to the castle opening, though, the cadet stopped trembling and peeked over Shiro's shoulder.

"Oh, the door is open," he gave an apologetic shrug to the alien craft above him, "Guess I was wrong about you..."

Shiro and the others gave a raised eyebrow or look of ' _really?_ ' before moving on ahead. He frowned, then squeezed the prisoner against him. Man, this guy was really comforting for some reason...like that blankie he had during his kindergarten years. Or the nightlight when he went through his ' _the dark scares me and I need light'_ phase _._

"I'm sure if you were awake, you'd be scared, too," he whispered to it glumly, plodding on forward. It almost reminded him of that one movie where a guy went nuts on an island and started talking to a volleyball.

As they headed into the dark castle, Hunk felt the tension ease from his shoulders. He looked around, noticing the absence of dust and cobwebs. As if it were still lived in. That was another factor of comfort for Hunk - he'd seen one too many horror movies to know that abandoned _anythings_ were just bad news. And if there were still people living here...

"Hello?!" he called out, and the others froze in their steps before spinning back to look at him. The looks on their faces shut him up immediately, and he tucked his head into the captive's chest plate, a bit embarrassed.

"From the size of the lion, I expected the size of these steps to be bigger," Pidge took advantage of the broken silence, but the ceiling suddenly turned on.

" _Hold for identity scan,_ " a female robotic voice echoed above them as a bright neon blue light covered their bodies.

"Why are we here? What do you want with us?" Shiro demanded as the rest of his team tried not to flail during the scan. Instead of answering him, however, the scan suddenly highlighted Hunk's arms and the body he carried. It blinked once, then twice, then announced:

" _Genetic structure verified, access granted._ "

White flames burst in sequence towards a dark hallway, lighting a path for the five friends. Hunk looked down at the unconscious alien in his arms and then back at the rest of the group.

"...Does this thing...own the castle?" he asked, then tilted his head as he stared at its helmet, "Or maybe he's a key?"

"Could be," Pidge theorized, then observed the flickering white lights, "I guess we're going that way..."

Before he moved onward with the group, he whispered to the armored alien, grinning, "Good job, you. Think you could get us something to eat, too? No? Ah, just a thought..."

For a while, the group continued onward, and Hunk continued to call out in curiosity to see if there were any occupants that would meet them. After all, if the alien prisoner was recognized as a friendly, maybe its allies would, too? A bit hopeful and naive, but Hunk was feeling better and better about his decision to carry the captive. Finally, they reached a circular room with what looked like a control panel in the middle.

"Where are we?" Lance asked as Hunk made one last call.

"It's some kind of control room," Pidge noted the strange symbol in the middle of it, but when Hunk moved closer to see what the boy was staring at, it suddenly came to life. He jolted and hid behind it, squeezing the stranger against him in fear. Sounds of hissing gas and mechanical whirring filled the room as two silhouetted pods slid out of the floor, towering in front of them.

"Are these guys...dead?" Hunk asked, and he felt his stomach curdle again.

Dead people in an abandoned castle. Well, now it was looking more and more like a horror movie by the second. Hunk nearly peed himself when the pod opened, and a dark-skinned woman with pointy ears fell out, gasping for her 'father'. As Lance caught her and talking started, the big cadet breathed a sigh of relief when he checked himself and found his pants dry. However, that wasn't to say something felt wet - and it was against his shoulder.

"Oh no...no, no, no, no, no..." Hunk bent forward to let the alien captive's head roll to the right, and saw the cause: a trail of blood leaking from a crack that beaded out slowly.

* * *

Hunk tried to get everyone's attention as they spoke between each other, but his nervousness, his fear of the new aliens caused him to fumble at every attempt. He was hopping from one foot to the other anxiously, like he needed to go use the restroom. He caught snippets of the conversation: something about being Princess Allura, the other alien being a kung-fu master, being asleep for 10,000 years, planets destroyed, Zarkon, and evil Galra. Finally, when they finished talking about Voltron, Shiro looked behind at Hunk and noticed the frantic movements of the larger boy.

"Ah, but before that, we have an injured over here," Shiro moved out of the way so Allura could get a clear line of sight on the body in Hunk's arms, "He was with us earlier, but he hasn't regained consciousness yet."

For a moment, the dark-skinned woman only stared. Her eyes were wide, and Shiro could see her visage twist into a snarl. Coran was in a similar state of shock - how else _could_ he react? There, scratched into its helmet, was something no Altean could forget: the Galra insignia, a symbol hailing Lord Zarkon and the Galra Empire's reign over the known universe.

"It has...Galra markings..." the alien princess spoke in shock, then in anger, "A _Galra_ in _our_ castle?! Coran! Hand me your weapon!"

The older Altean jumped at the sound of his name, but hesitated in reaching for the small laser pistol at his hip.

"Whoa, whoa," Shiro stepped in front of their unconscious prisoner and Hunk, holding his hands up, "Wait, he's not even armed! We even tied him up - you're not going to attack him while he's unconscious, are you?!"

"He is **Galra** ," she narrowed her eyes, bitterness and hate creeping into her voice, "His kind are the reason why Altea is gone! Why _my people_ are gone!"

"But he's not one of them!" Lance moved towards her, "He even fought with us against them!"

Allura stared at Lance coldly, and the skepticism was felt intensely as she pushed him aside to get to her steward. However, he still refused to give her a weapon.

"Princess, I understand what you're feeling - but public execution in front of these...people is not the Altean way!" Coran lowered his eyes sadly, "It is not your _father_ 's way."

Crystal blue eyes widened in surprise at Coran's reprimand. In quiet consideration, Allura looked to the humans who had stumbled into her father's...no, now _her_ castle. Shiro and Lance both stood in front of their captive and Hunk, while Pidge remained off to the side. Keith was a little less concerned about the situation, his arms crossed and his eyes half-lidded. Nonetheless, each of them were staring at her with unwavering attention. Did she really want to leave that sort of impression on them? A bloodthirsty princess?

"...Fine," she said finally, though a headache had started to pull at her nerves, "I can't believe I'm saying this...but I'll leave him alone for now."

"He's also hurt!" Hunk spoke up quickly, and the rest of them looked at him in surprise, "I know, I know - Galra, bad guy, takes over galaxies - but when I was carrying him..."

He leaned forward, revealing the mess of dark red blood on his shirt sleeve and shoulder.

"...He needs help. Bad."

* * *

" _...Galra markings..._ "

" _...Tied him up...going to attack..."_

" _...Not one of...fought with..._ "

" _...Needs help..._ "

Eighty-Four's awakening was plagued with a cacophony of voices. They faded in and out _,_ wavering like her consciousness. Her eyelids fluttered open, and she felt something flaky sticking to her lashes. By the smell of it, it was probably her own blood. A gnawing headache, dull and sore, accompanied the smell and hinted at the blunt force trauma she'd endured. She tried to see through the darkness, but her helmet must've been damaged when she was ejected from her cockpit. Completely blind, Eighty-Four took a small breath in and tried to figure out where she was. She certainly wasn't in outer space, and for some reason, she was bound - poorly, if she might add. It wouldn't take much for the Altean to break out, but judging by the voices, it wouldn't be a smart idea to let them know she was awake yet.

"Finally!" she nearly jolted when she heard someone practically shout in her ear, just to her right, "We finally get to see who's under the hood! Hey, are Galra super-ugly, or maybe they've got tentacles for a face?"

"Not funny, Lance."

"What? You were the one who said it might have 'em, Hunk!"

"Not at all, although they do have fangs!" came another voice, this one a bit older and more cheerful, "Oh...I see the problem. Galra space helms tend to lock under emergency circumstances, but if I remember correctly...there's an emergency latch right about... _here_."

The hiss of her helmet's suction echoed around her, and a bright white halo of light emerged under chin. Eighty-Four closed her eyes and tried to appear as though she were still unconscious...

* * *

...He wasn't Galra. That much was clear after they pulled his helmet off.

Coran gasped, and Allura walked forward with an astonished expression on her face. They weren't alone. At least, not as alone as they thought. Shiro and the gang crowded around the body and Hunk in a similar manner.

"...Uhh, isn't he...she... _this person_ the same as you guys? Altean?" Lance looked back at Allura and pointed a finger at the unconscious pilot's face.

The confusion that the cadet expressed was well-justified - although the pointed ears were clearly Altean, the facial features were fairly androgynous. Shiro knelt down beside the bound body and scrutinized their appearance, noting the pale, alabaster skin of their long, oval face. Sharp cheekbones and a strong jaw line made the pilot 'handsome', but their full, peach-colored lips and long white lashes leaned more towards 'flowery'. A delicate brow line suggested feminine, but a sharp chin hinted masculine. Jagged red arrows of Altean markings were striking and bold against their cheeks, but the long, flowing shards of their silver-blue hair tumbled and cascaded like the shine off a waterfall.

Regardless of gender, and the blood that caked their forehead, Shiro could at least say that this Altean was _..._ _stunning_.

Shiro took a small breath and risked touching them, lifting their chin gently so he could take a peek at their neck. His eyes followed the elegant line down and noted the lack of an Adam's apple.

"I think...it's a 'she'," he put forth tentatively, still unsure since he didn't know much about Altean biology.

"Well, _hello there_ ," Lance bounced his eyebrows up suggestively, but Pidge's sharp elbow put an end to that nonsense. Hunk swallowed audibly, sweat forming on his brow and his legs jittering. He'd been squeezing this _very_ attractive woman against him this entire time, treating her like a stuffed animal! Oh...boy...thank God she was unconscious, he wasn't sure he'd be able to explain himself well, and the feeling of guilt would've made him look like a pervert.

"She's not Galra," Allura mumbled in disbelief, "She's not...oh my stars, we're not alone. Coran! We're not alone!"

Relief poured through her body, causing her to fall to her knees at the revelation. In an instance, Coran was at her side, but he too shared her joy.

"M-Maybe...there are others?" she whispered to him, breathless and hopeful, "Maybe some of us survived and escaped! Oh Coran, there could be a whole planet full of our people!"

"P-Princess!" Coran held her hands, thick tears streaming down his face and into his mustache.

Shiro couldn't help but have a little smile at the scene between the princess and her steward. In spite of her anger beforehand, Princess Allura wasn't a bad person. He could see that. She had awakened after 10,000 years, and learned her father, people, and planet were gone - anyone would've been _upset_.

Looking down, Shiro shook his head. ' _Upset_ ' probably didn't even reach the level of grief the alien woman was feeling.

"Uh, guys? She's still bleeding," Pidge pointed out, and Shiro looked up immediately. Breaking out of her own relief, Allura gasped.

"Oh, quickly, we have medical pods!" she scrambled to stand and walk, but stumbled in her over-excitement.

"Princess, you should stay here and rest," Coran got to his feet fluidly and helped her stabilize, "I'll bring our new _guest_ to the med-bay. And I'll have them healed up in a tick!" He motioned to Hunk, who nodded and walked with him to the supposed medical room.

* * *

' _...Princess?_ '

Eighty-Four reviewed the information she'd received, unbeknownst to her captors. She knew Shiro was there - she'd heard his voice, and nearly laughed when he had guessed she was female with an uncertain lilt in his voice. Then there was the flirt, "Lance", and the strong one holding her, "Hunk". A child had spoken, but their name and gender were still a mystery. Then there were the two with very identifiable accents, one of them being "Princess" and the other "Coran", and were perhaps Altean themselves.

' _There haven't been any Altean royalty since..._ ' she thought, then scoffed mentally, ' _It can't be. It's all myth. Legend an' fantasy._ '

But...she also saw the Blue Lion, which was supposed to be just as mythical and fictional. If _that_ existed...

...

All this thinking was making her head hurt worse.

...

"And here are the med-pods! The systems might be a bit dated, but our med-pods have always been well-maintained," Coran spoke in front of her, rousing her from her dull-headed pondering, and she felt Hunk shift her to an upright position. She slumped as he pushed her in delicately, one of his hands cradling her head. And her greatest concern, the bonds tying her wrists, were undone immediately with care.

"Phew...all done. You'll be all right, don't worry," Hunk spoke to her softly, and she wanted to raise a brow - did this human create an emotional bond with her already? Hmph. Soft humans. Soft, soft humans.

"You should get back to the others," Coran reassured Hunk, and the large-handed human backed away from her, "Oh, and could you bring this plate of food to the princess? She's been asleep 10,000 years, she must be starving."

The room went silent for a moment, causing Eighty-Four to think Hunk had left.

"You _are_ a good luck charm!" he spoke suddenly, nearly startling her, but she could hear the grin in his voice. Then he really left, Eighty-Four confirming his footsteps.

' _...Strange one,_ ' she thought, then shifted her focus to "Coran".

As soon as she heard the telltale beeps of a console being worked on, Eighty-Four chanced a peek and saw "Coran" alone. And as she thought, Altean, of all things. She shook her head, clearing the questions she had - this wasn't the time nor the place, who knew when "Hunk" would come back. Without a sound, she slipped out of the medpod and stalked towards the orange-haired individual.

"All right, let's do a preliminary scan and...hmm? ' _No patient found_ '? That can't be right, we just put her in the - _huuk!_ " Coran's words ended in a strangled squawk as Eighty-Four came from behind, wrapping one arm tight around his neck. The other grabbed his ear, sharp nails just barely piercing the sensitive appendage.

"Scream, an' I'll tear yer ear off," she spoke quietly, eyes narrowed and her nails digging in painfully, "Now tell me: where am I, an' what is this place? An' don't ye dare lie ta me."

"Please, we only mean well!" Coran choked out, his hands coming up to tug at Eighty-Four's arm.

" _Answer_ mah questions," she demanded, "Demands'll be hard ta listen ta outta one ear 'stead o' two, an' I'll keep askin' 'til I get what I want."

"Y-You're safe, at the Castle of Lions - an _Altean_ stronghold!" the ginger steward tried to look back at her, but she kept a tight grip on his ear, "All Alteans know of the Castle of Lions!"

Eighty-Four gave pause at this. More and more of this ridiculous fantasy was piling up on itself, but now she had to really question it: was it fantasy, or reality? The Alteans of old spoke of Voltron, of the Castle of Lions, of the legacies of the Paladins. Of hope that Zarkon would be defeated. Of the war that would come once more - the _Last War_. And that it would happen when darkness seemed at its strongest. Eighty-Four didn't doubt that the universe was looking grim, maybe even on its last leg. Was it really time? Voltron versus Zarkon? With the freedom of the universe at stake? And where did Shiro fit into all this?

...It was too much to take in. Eighty-Four grimaced and grit her teeth, the pain in her temple throbbing insistently now. She wasn't some adventurous hero or prophetic zealot - she didn't want to face off against impossible odds in some war. She just wanted to take Shiro and get the Pits off this planet, far away from all of it.

But how? Stuck on this planet with her ship out of reach, how was she going to do it? Eighty-Four took a moment to think, then started to formulate a small plan.

"Take me ta yer leader," she ordered firmly, releasing his ear in favor of grabbing the pistol at his side, "The one called 'Princess'."

* * *

"...After 10,000 years it might need some work," Princess Allura finished assigning the Lions to their respective Paladins, then turned to see Coran's form stumbling into the control room, "Coran! How is our guest? And...why are you walking like that?"

"P-Princess, I'm so sorry, she just - !"

"Shut it, ' _Coran_ '," the once-unconscious prisoner emerged from behind him, kicking in his knees and forcing him to the floor in a painful crash, "Now hands up, all ya. I ain't gon' ask twice."

The temperature in the room froze into an uncomfortable, crawling chill. Hunk immediately raised his hands, although the look of betrayal was clear on his face, as well as Lance's. Pidge took a step back with his hands up, unsure of what to do, while Keith readied himself into a stance. Shiro and Allura both held their ground and stared at Eighty-Four, then at the pistol she pressed against the back of Coran's head.

"...You don't have to do this, we are friendly - " the princess began, but Eighty-Four merely edged the gun forward.

"What did I jus' say?" the pale Altean twitched her ears, "Sure hope ye remembered, 'cuz I warned ya - I ain't gon' ask _twice_."

"What are your demands?" Shiro spoke up, holding his hands up to get her attention.

Mismatched eyes switched to the tall human...and he almost thought he caught a glimpse of _something_ in her gaze. It quickly dissipated, however, and she grinned.

"Well, darlin', tha's more like it," she cooed sweetly, and he stiffened at the way she fluttered her eyes sarcastically, "Good ta see ya understand th' situation so quickly, especially 'cuz it's _you_ I'm demandin'."

"What?!" Keith started forward, "You are not taking Shiro!"

"Ah-ah-ah!" the mystery woman grabbed Coran's hair in a painful wrench, then leveled the pistol at Keith, "Down, boy. 'Less ya wanna know what hot laser feels like in yer gut."

"Back off, Keith," Shiro ordered, and the black-haired teen moved away reluctantly, "What do you mean, you're demanding 'me'?"

"I'm a bounty hunter," she grunted as she decided to relocate, getting her back against a wall with Coran still in front of her like a shield, "Though...more like a freelancer righ' now. Tracker 84-2009 is mah designation, but ye can call me good ol' 'Eighty-Four'. Nice ring ta it, huh?"

"Eighty-Four," Allura suddenly shifted the focus to her, and Eighty-Four narrowed her eyes, "By Altean decree, you _will_ release Coran and surrender your weapon. _Now._ "

"..." the paler woman stared at the princess for a moment, then started laughing, "Hmmm...haha...hahahaha...AHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Everyone shifted uncomfortably at the way the princess' face was growing tighter, and Eighty-Four's laughing grew louder.

"Oh...oh..." she wiped a tear away with the gun still in her hand, "Ohhhhh...'decree'. Tha's a good 'un righ' there. Whoo! Ain't heard a word like 'decree' since...huh, never! Ain't you a fancy gal!"

"RELEASE HIM!" Allura yelled, her eyes flashing dangerously, but Eighty-Four brushed it off with a bored look.

" _...No_ ," she stated in a plain, low voice, "An' if ya order me 'round again, I ain't gon' take it so _funny_ next time." Eighty-Four made a point of this by spinning Coran around and shoving him down to lie on the ground. She grimaced as she straddled his body, then shoved the gun's muzzle into his mouth, his bushy mustache flexing crazily under his nose from the panic.

"Ya'll get it?!" she roared angrily, and the rest of them backed off with their hands fully in the air, "Ya'll finally _understand_?! Worse ones woulda shot all ya an' jus' take that boy there with no trouble at all! Maybe even loot this here pretty place fer all its worth! But I ain't gon' do that...I ain't that kinda person. Ye think me horrible, but I ain't even close ta th' real evil that's out there. No siree..."

"You mean...Zarkon?" Shiro asked, and she gave a grim nod.

"An' he'll be crawlin' up our backside any tick now," Eighty-Four eased the gun out of Coran's mouth, letting him breathe properly, "Now, I need me a ship. I know mine's blasted, but this castle oughta have some reserves. An' yer comin' with me, boy."

"You can't!" Allura blurted out, gritting her teeth, "Shiro is the pilot of the Black Lion! Without him, we can't form Voltron! You would be abandoning us to the mercy of the Galra!"

"Then run," Eighty-Four suggested, shrugging nonchalantly, "Tha's what th' rest of us did, back in th' day. In fact...ain't that what yer _daddy_ did? _Princess_?"

The cold, stinging comment made Allura rear back, then retort back in an equally fiery voice: "When we first saw you, I thought you were an Altean, but...I guess I was wrong. You are nothing more than a _coward_ , Eighty-Four."

"I _survive_ ," the pale Altean corrected the princess, frowning, "Besides, even if I didn't take 'Shiro' there, ye still wouldn't be able ta form that weapon - Voltron. Th' Galra searched high an' low fer 'em, and they still ain't been able to find all o' them."

Just as Allura was about to bite back, Shiro stopped her and scrutinized Eighty-Four's words. His eyes widened and he grinned.

"...How do you know that?" he asked, and Eighty-Four raised a brow.

"Ain't no secret th' Galra's been lookin' fer 'em," she sniffed, tossing her head back to clear the hair out of her eyes, "An' they ain't stopped yet, so..."

"No, you said _'they didn't find all of them_'," Shiro started to walk closer, and Eighty-Four flinched visibly, "Does that mean the Galra have at least... _one_ of the Lions? Because, as it turns out, there's only one of our Lions that's missing. Location-wise."

A twitch of her eye told Shiro all he needed to know. The rest of the group looked between each other, catching the hint - Eighty-Four could possibly know where the missing Red Lion was. And that maybe there was a way to reason with her, or at least trick her.

"...It don't _matter_ ," she tried to brush off the issue, "Th' Galra are trackin' us, an' this Castle of Lions is jus' one big target. We need ta leave!"

"Help us," he pleaded, moving steadily towards her, "Help us find the Red Lion, help us form Voltron - "

"I ain't signed up fer a war!" she yelled at him, her gun hand flying up to point at him...which is when he disarmed her. A quick chop to the wrist sent the gun swinging down and it discharged at his feet, causing everyone to scream. Shiro, on the other hand, took action and snatched the gun off the ground while she was stunned, then kicked her off of Coran. A solid 'oof' left her lips as Shiro's boot planted itself in her mid-section, sending her tumbling back, and Coran scrambled out of the way.

Now, with gun in his hand, Shiro pointed it at Eighty-Four with a hardened look in his eye.

"Looks like you don't have a choice," he stated grimly, and the princess approached the two with a satisfied look on her face. Eighty-Four, on the other hand, was rubbing her wounded belly and keeping her gaze low.

"Now tell us where the Red Lion is."

* * *

_**Log Entry 9212-015** _

_T'day, Shiro was tellin' me how 'is new escape plan shoulda worked. Fool-proof. Best o' th' best.  
_

_But it failed - heh, seein' as how he's sittin' inside mah cell again._

_An' then 'e asks me - "Eighty-Four, what's yer secret? Ya must've had plans when ye were escapin' yerself. What were they?"_

_An' I told 'im, the key to any good plan...is improvisin'._

_Why? 'Cause 200 years taught me that plans ain't worth th' effort they're built upon._

_Ye lay 'em out all pretty like, flesh 'em out piece by piece, but when th' slightest bit o' pressure builds up in th' wrong place, it all comes crashin' down like a poorly-built engine._

_When yer caught in an unfavorable position, ye need ta be flexible, loose. Do things th' enemy ain't thought of._

_An' ye need a great deal of actin'. Practice in th' mirror, make them "terrified" or "surprised" expressions, too._

_'Cause th' best way ta fool anyone is ta look like ya got taken by surprise._

**_*sound of inhaling smoke*_ **

_Rile 'em up, throw 'em off guard, make 'em see red so they don't see straight._

_Drop some hints, but don't make 'em too obvious. 'Course, it only works when ye got a smart one in th' bunch._

_If ye can put in somethin' real, even better. Makes it easier ta sell._

_Then, let 'em put th' puzzle t'gether all by themselves. Let 'em think they're the ones who got it aaaallllll figured out._

_..._

_Shiro said I sounded like a puppeteer, pullin' strings._

**_*sound of exhaling smoke*_ **

_Maybe, but at least it ain't MY strings they pullin! Heheheh!_

_Eighty-Four, out!_

* * *


	6. Not Today

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eighty-Four has a bit of an emotional roller-coaster, but pulls through in the end.

* * *

**Chapter 6**

**"But the heaviest things, I think, are the secrets. They can drown you if you let them." - Ally Carter** _**  
** _

* * *

**(Inside the control room of the Castle of Lions...)**

"...I told ya, I ain't up fer a war," Eighty-Four laid herself back against the wall, relaxed and unimpressed, "You find all them lions, that's exactly what'll happen."

It wasn't easy, letting go of that gun. Her fingers itched for a weapon - the slender grip of her X-54 plasma pistol, the comforting weight of 0.30 magnum shells in a six-cylinder barrel - but she wagered her guns were either taken off of her by the humans, or floating outside somewhere just beyond the atmosphere of whatever planet they were on. Even that piddly laser peashooter was more comforting than being empty-handed. However, if she wanted this to work, she needed to gain their trust, make them think they were in control. Luckily, Shiro was the one holding the gun - and as far as she knew, his moral compass would never lead him to shooting an unarmed captive, especially if they were female. Chivalrous brat.

"Whether war comes or not, the Galra are coming _now_ ," the princess stood next to Shiro, her arms together and her gaze fierce, "The castle detected an enemy proximity alert, and a tracker trained on our destination."

Then there was the princess. Eighty-Four took a good long look at her: dark brown skin with a touch of ash, white flowing hair, pink markings, and pretty blue eyes. She was quite beautiful, and certainly resembled King Alfor, but to say that she was _the_ Princess Allura from 10,000 years ago was...strange, to say the least. Alteans were long-lived in comparison to some species, especially humans, but they aged relative to their years - Coran, for instance, was middle-aged at 600 years. Princess Allura, on the other hand, was no more than 200 years by Eighty-Four's calculations, which meant she was still younger than the bounty hunter.

' _Heh, surrounded by brats yet again_ ,' she thought, _'_ _Jus' mah luck._ '

Coran jumped up and checked the console, regretting that he wasn't able to be around when the alarm went off. He observed the image the castle had picked up, and brought it on-screen.

"A Galra battleship..." he whispered, noting that while the design was a bit different, the familiar Galran ribbing and sinister crystal energy was the same.

"Princess Allura wasn't sure how to gauge the distance, so we were waiting for you," Shiro kept his gaze on Eighty-Four as he talked to Coran, "How long before they arrive?"

"At their speed? Oh, well, carry the two..." the red-haired Altean trailed off as he counted on his fingers, "I'd probably say a couple of days."

"Good! Let them come. By the time they get here, you five will have reformed Voltron, and together, we will destroy Zarkon's empire," Allura's eyes took on a determined light as she looked to Eighty-Four once more, "So I say again: if you don't tell us where the Red Lion is, we are all doomed - you included. If you cannot help us as an Altean, then do so to survive."

Eighty-Four gave a half-lidded look before she pulled something behind her back, and Shiro tightened his grip on the gun. He wouldn't use it, of course, that much Eighty-Four knew, but she held up a hand to at least ease him back. She took out her Q-fumes and popped one out, flicking the tip with a nail. Allura squinted at the little black cylinder, unfamiliar with it. Eighty-Four gave a chuckle, confusing the rest of the occupants in the room, even Shiro. Guess his memory was still out of commission, for lack of a better word. And while she preferred it that way, it was a bit lonely when she couldn't share the joke with him - because he made the same uncomfortable look he did when she first showed him a Q-fume for the first time.

"Look at you, tryin' ta appeal ta mah better nature," she joked as she stuck the Q-fume between her lips, then winced when she felt a flake of dried blood drop into her her eye, "Ah, _quiznak_! Ssss...damn that hurts!"

Shiro seemed to ease up as he noticed that Eighty-Four was still very much injured, and Hunk stepped forward.

"We really should get your head looked at," he told her, but froze when she directed a glare at him, "I-I mean, lion! Tell us where the lion is!"

Eighty-Four continued to stare him down as he shrunk inwards, but then a light laugh caused him to ease up.

"Ye're that weird one that called me a 'good luck charm', ain't ya?" she asked, recalling the exact same tone from before.

Hunk lit up a bright red, and his teammates turned to look at him in surprise. In return, the pale Altean smirked - well, look at this cutie, all sweetness and no spice.

"Y-You heard that?!"

"Mhmm...firs' time's anyone's called me tha', by th' way," she pulled the Q-fume from her lips and blew out a noxious purple swirl of smoke, grinning, "Sweet, ain't ya? Could eat you _riiiight_ _up_..."

"..." Hunk remained quiet, wishing he could hide behind something as the blush reached up to his ears.

"...The Red Lion," Allura tried to re-direct the conversation, and Eighty-Four waved her hand.

"Mmm - yeah, yeah..." she shrugged, taking a few more puffs, "Tell ya what. I'm an ex-bounty hunter turned freelancer, I work fer money or somethin' o' equal value. An' considerin' mah employer never made aware th'...dangers o' this particular deal, I'm more than happy ta make a new one. Make me an offer."

And there it was. The lie of being paid to drag Shiro out of that Galra ship would be replaced by a very real contract with the princess.

"An...offer?" Allura had to pause at that. Granted, she understood politics and business, but as a Princess of Altea, she never expected to ever have to bargain with someone of her _own_ _species_. Not that she took advantage of her royal heritage. She didn't snap her fingers and everyone would jump a foot in the air, but...if she made a request, she can't recall if anyone had ever refused her. If she wasn't in the middle of negotiating with a bounty hunter, she might've stopped to consider the privileges her life afforded.

"Mah services are mah trade, an' ya can't make bank on good looks alone," Eighty-Four tipped her head and winked suggestively, "Though I know I'd be livin' like a queen if I could."

"All right, enough!" Allura felt like she'd been pulled into some alternate dimension with Eighty-Four's talking - as if they _weren't_ about to be descended upon by the Galra, "What would it take to get the Red Lion's location?"

"Whoa, you are not seriously negotiating with her?!" Keith stepped forward, his tone caught between angry and worried, "She tried to take Shiro away!"

"Keith, this is _your_ lion we're talking about, and we don't have a lot of time," Shiro lowered the muzzle of the pistol slowly, "What do you want?"

"...First, mah ship," she stated plainly, "I know it's still out there, an' I ain't leavin' it ta be picked apart by them Galra. Second, an' I'm jus' guessin' here based on yer 10,000 hypersleep, but assumin' ya don't buy an' trade in th' standard Galra currency, I'll need access ta things I can use fer barter here. Third, I get a room here."

"A room? You mean, you want to stay here, with us?" Pidge asked, quirking his eyebrow upwards.

"Mhmm," Eighty-Four leaned back and scratched at one of the straps to her chest plate, "Ye don't steal a favored prisoner o' th' Galra an' expect ta roam free. Then again, ain't never lived 'n a castle before, so...bonus."

"...You mean, you're the one who helped me escape?" Shiro asked, a look of surprise crossing his handsome features.

"Had me a little help, but yeah," she shrugged at the half-truth, then frowned, "'Course, didn't think it'd end up with me bein' on th' run. They mus' really like you, boy."

"My name's not 'boy', it's Shiro," the white-haired teen corrected, and Eighty-Four couldn't help but laugh again - oh, the memories. She slipped the Q-fume back into her lips, taking a few more puffs.

"Well, point is - I ain't followin' through with that _quiznakkin'_ deal, considerin' everythin'," she looked at Allura pointedly, "An' I'm willin' ta take a better offer. Trus' me...things're a lot different, princess. An' as far as I can remember, humans're still labeled as base 2-primitives. Ye want information, I'm yer best shot."

" _You're_ a base-2 primitive," Lance mumbled under his breath, and Eighty-Four chuckled.

"Ain't an insult, kid," she waved her hand dismissively, "It's a classification, according to th' Galra. Means ya haven't encountered aliens on a greater level yet. At least ya'll ain't base 1.

"What does base 1 mean?" the littlest human asked, adjusting his glasses.

"Yer still worshippin' aliens as Gods," Eighty-Four looked around and noted the lack of civilization on the planet they were on now, "Now _this_ might be considered a base 1-primitive planet."

"So, your ship, your payment, and a room," Allura reigned the conversation back in, a vein in her temple throbbing, "Anything _else?_ "

The paler Altean turned her attention back to the princess, who was currently gritting her teeth in effort not to snap. Grinning, the bounty hunter nodded and held up a fourth finger.

"One more thing...if I pull command, I _get_ command, ya understand me?" she took another long smoke of the Q-fume before putting it out, "When I say stop, we stop. If I tell ya go, we go. Anythin' an' everythin' between them, too."

"What?! This is _my_ castle!" the dark-skinned Altean gestured to the entire room, "Who are you to say you can give _me_ orders?"

Eighty-Four brushed off her thighs as she stood up, and showed the princess that she was at least a few inches taller.

"Don't get yer dress up in a bunch," she leaned forward and poked the younger female in the forehead, earning a glare, "I won't pull command without a reason. An' again, I'd call this fair - since I'm essentially signin' a death warrant by agreein' ta join yer side. Ya gotta at least make it worth mah while, don't ya agree?"

"...Then in addition to the Red Lion's whereabouts, I have the right to any information you may have regarding what's happened these past 10,000 years," Allura rebounded back, "And anyone who lives in this castle must contribute - you will not be an exception to this rule."

"Fine by me," Eighty-Four spoke lazily, a little smile on her face as she saw Allura's frustration still building, "So...how ya wanna seal this deal? Shake? Sign? Kiss?"

"Coran can draft the agreement, then we...wait, did you just say...'kiss'?" everyone in the room stopped for a moment and turned to stare at the princess and the bounty hunter, eyes wide.

"Sure did," Eighty-Four added a little purr to the end of that, and leaned forward suggestively, "Why... _interested_?"

"You...are a _female_ Altean, are you not?"

"Yep."

"And you understand that I'm a female, too?"

"Uh-huh."

"...Did you...um...mean a kiss on the cheek?"

"Nope."

"..."

"..."

Eighty-Four's grin had grown each time Allura had asked her questions, and she couldn't help but enjoy the way the princess squirmed under the attention. It was even more enjoyable when Allura seemed to get the picture - which, given the way she acted, showed how naive and innocent the princess was, at least in relationships. Eighty-Four would certainly not say no to kissing someone as beautiful as Allura, especially since she was a princess - the bounty hunter had never kissed royalty before - but it just wasn't meant to be, as Allura shook her head in response to the offer.

"I...um...I'm sorry, I'm not..."

"Tha's all right," Eighty-Four shrugged, then turned to look at Hunk, "How 'bout you? Want a kiss, sweet stuff?"

"What?!" Hunk waved his hands in front of himself, flushing 10 different shades of red, "N-No, I'm good - uh, not that you're aren't pretty, you're very pretty, but-but-but..."

"Heh," she laughed - it was just too easy to tease these new comrades of hers - and started moving towards Coran as he wrote up the contract quickly, "Think I might really like it here, after all."

* * *

**(One hour later...)  
**

Eighty-Four stepped out of the cryo-replenisher, feeling refreshed and surprised at the effectiveness of Altean technology. Even 10,000 years old and it still beat the standard Galra medical procedures, though it may have had to do more with Galra philosophy rather than a deficiency in their technology. After all, they hated weakness and favored the strong - and what better way to show strength than to go through excruciatingly-painful surgeries with no anesthetic? A bit muscle-headed and painful for her like, but it did encourage her to stop getting hurt in idiotic ways. Sort of...kind of...well, she did get hurt _less_ to a degree. She took a quick peek around and saw that she was alone, just as she had intended, though it took a fair bit of flaunting and flirtatious smiling to get her way.

The pale Altean stripped off the medical gown she was given, then dressed herself in her under-armor: a simple, dark-blue body suit that had highlights of neon purple along her spine, hips, and chest. Though it offered little defense, it was better than nothing, and it allowed for better mobility than the broken bounty hunter gear she sported. The only thing she wished she had was the helmet, which was the most damaged out of her gear. For now, though, she accepted one of the spare Altean ones instead, provided by Coran - a little snug on the ears, but it did breathe a little better than her old helmet.

"Hmm..." she plodded over to the console as soon as she'd slipped on the last glove, noting the alerts that blinked rapidly over her medical readout. After a quick scan of all the warnings, she erased them - another reason why she wanted to be alone. The less these folks knew about her, the better. _Especially_ Shiro.

Eighty-Four sighed and rubbed at her eyes, still not believing she was going through this. If only her ship wasn't destroyed...she could've just taken Shiro and left. Not that she didn't like that uppity princess and steward, or the other four humans that came along with Shiro, but if she had to choose between their safety and Shiro's...

Well, none of that mattered now. Now...the only hope for survival was indeed Voltron. Shiro and three other humans had headed out earlier to grab the Green Lion and the Yellow Lion, and Eighty-Four had told the Princess which ship the Red Lion was on - Sendak's battle cruiser, to be precise. Thus, the only thing left for her to do was to grab her things from the space outside of Arus, which was the name of the planet they were on as she found out.

"Hey, you ready?" came a voice at the opposite end of the med-bay, and Eighty-Four turned to find the moodiest human standing there, leaning against the doorway.

"Yep," she stretched, testing her re-invigorated body, "Lead me ta th' ship hanger, an' I'll be on mah way ta grab mah things - "

"With _me_ ," the black-haired teen interrupted, crossing his arms, "You didn't think we'd just let you take a pod out of here without supervision, did you?"

"...I could knock ya out in less than five ticks with tha' attitude, ya know that?" Eighty-Four raised an eyebrow, crossing her own arms.

"Oh yeah? I'd like to see you try," the brat retorted, clenching his fists.

"Please, we all agreed we were on the same side, did we not?" Allura walked into the room after hearing the argument, with Coran behind her, " _I_ asked Keith to accompany you. Think of it as an exercise in trust - and if you are true to your word, then this alliance will be much easier to cope with for everyone."

"...Hmph," Eighty-Four gave a quiet nod, staring down this 'Keith' with a trained eye, "Fine...but this one needs ta work on 'is attitude - "

"You tried to take Shiro away!"

"An' I'm th' one who rescued 'im in th' first place! He wouldn't even be here if it weren't fer me!"

"Enough!" Allura shoved herself between the two of them, who had been stalking towards each other, "Please...this isn't the time. I don't want the two of you caught out there when the Galra arrive."

"...Yer lucky I agree with her or I'd plant one on ya," Eighty-Four held up a fist before turning away.

"You and Lance are the same, all talk and no action," Keith did the same, and Eighty-Four had half a mind to back-hand the dumb son of a -

"I said _enough_ ," Allura felt a small headache grow from the argument, "Coran will show you to the hanger bay. I have to get back to the bridge to assess the condition of the other Paladins and the wormholes."

* * *

**(Outside Arus, approximately _416.5 killorans_ (510 kilometers) above atmosphere...)**

"So...ya seem ta have a strong connection with tha' Shiro fella," Eighty-Four spoke finally as they reached where her ship had been wrecked. She would've preferred silence, considering how foul the teenager was acting, but if Princess Allura said to play nice, then she'd might as well try. Not to mention, Keith did seem to have an strangely-strong bond with Shiro. It made her just a tad curious.

"And it's none of your business," Keith replied from her right, making Eighty-Four frown.

"...Ya know, this would go a lot more smoothly if ye were jus' a little less prickly," she grumbled, slowing the pod down so she could get a good look at the wreckage.

Her cockpit was completely wrecked, its shield smashed to smithereens and the frame bent in several areas. Her wings were the next bits she could see, both ripped to shreds, and her tail was similarly bent. So...the frame was trashed...in essence, the Cutting Edge was beyond repair. Eighty-Four bit the inside of her cheek and groaned inwardly, apologizing to the old girl. She and the Cutting Edge had been through many battles, seen many things together, and in the end, had protected her from dying in a fiery wreck inside that wormhole. It was a loss that was...hard to put into words.

"It would've been even smoother if you hadn't pointed a gun at us," Keith turned his away from her, and she felt something snap inside of her.

" ** _All righ', tha's it!_** " Eighty-Four pushed the pod into a sudden stop, causing Keith to jolt forward.

"Hey, what the heck?!" Keith turned on her angrily, but stopped when she put a finger in his face.

"In th' short span of a _quintant_ , I managed ta make an enemy outta th' Galra Empire, got thrown halfway 'cross th' galaxy, fought a Galra battle cruiser, had mah ship blown up, wrecked mah head 'gainst an asteroid, an' on top o' all that, learned Voltron weren't no myth," Eighty-Four counted off her other hand, her volume raising with each item on her ' _shit that's happened to her in the past day'_ list, "Now, I'm stuck with a sour-as- _quiznak_ runt who don't shut up 'bout me takin' his boyfriend!"

"He's not my _boyfriend_ , he's my friend - practically like a brother to me!" Keith argued back, and she leaned back with crossed arms.

"...An' I was jus' doin' mah job," Eighty-Four huffed, "I didn't know Shiro had any 'friends' or 'relatives', all I was given was orders. Ye can't blame me fer not knowin' what I didn't know."

"..." Keith looked down at that, and the Altean sighed.

"Look, this situation ain't exactly...easy fer th' both of us," she gestured to the both of them with her hands, "Yer a brat with issues, an' I'm th' girl who tried ta take yer 'brother' away."

That sentence didn't earn her any brownie points, but Eighty-Four couldn't resist calling him a 'brat'.

"That being said...I'm willin' ta put our differences aside fer now, at least 'til we can get outta here. Then, we can go back ta ignorin' each otha all we want. Deal?"

Eighty-Four held out her hand, giving a tired look.

"...Deal," Keith nodded begrudgingly and reached for her hand, but upon taking it, she jerked him forward and planted a kiss on his forehead.

"Hah, told ya I'd plant one on ya!" she laughed insanely, and Keith rubbed at his face furiously as she made a quick getaway. She exited the pod and jetted her way to one of the larger portions of the Cutting Edge that remained intact. She snickered as she heard Keith grumble darkly over the intercom, but refocused on a large black container that sat floating in her ship's broken cargo hold. Opening it up, she saw that most of her weapons inside weren't too badly damaged, and her toolkit was similarly in good shape. She took a locator and her old shoulder holsters out of the toolkit, then kicked the container to the pod to be picked up, letting herself drift forward.

" _Why even bother?_ " Keith's voice echoed to her, and she rolled her eyes, " _It's all broken anyway. It's not like you can get your ship back._ "

"Firstly, don't try ta get under mah skin again, it ain't gonna work," she chastised, unclipping the damaged belt on her waist and letting it float away, "Second, mah ship's done fer, I know, but that don't mean there ain't things worth salvagin'."

With a grin, she used the locator and noted that the magnums hadn't floated too far away, luckily still within the asteroid field. She jetted over and picked them up, slipping them into her shoulder holsters. Hmmm...not a bad look, if she said so herself. She always liked her shoulder holsters, but belts were the Galra standard and most folks were a little nervous when they could see the guns displayed so brazenly.

For the next 30 minutes or so, she picked up everything that she would fit inside the pod, things like rations, her Galra currency card, and the most important thing - a necklace with a personal log attached. Eighty-Four slipped it on immediately, breathing a sigh of relief that she'd found it.

" _Are you done yet? The others might be back already,_ " Keith asked seriously, and she turned around to see him drifting just behind her. Smart bugger...probably figured out how to pilot the pod already.

"Jus' 'bout," she reported, snatching the final bag of items she was looking for and blasting her way back to the pod, "Let Allura know we're on our way back an'..."

Suddenly, a flash of purple light appeared in the distance, not much brighter than a far-away star...but Eighty-Four knew better.

"...And?" Keith urged her to continue, but she didn't finish her sentence.

"Keith, move aside, we gotta get this ship outta th' way," Eighty-Four put a bit more speed into her jet pack, her ears pricking upwards.

" _Why? What's going on?_ " she saw Keith move to the passenger side of the pod as she approached it.

"Galra," she answered immediately, and she shoved her way into the pod, moving all the pieces she'd picked up over so she could sit in the pilot's seat.

"No way, Coran said they'd be here in 2 _days_ , not 2 _hours_!" Keith retorted, but when he looked up, he could see an ominous glowing purple speck, "Oh no..."

"Remind me ta ask how Coran counts his hours and days, would ya?" she grit her teeth in an annoyed fashion as she turned the ship around.

Nodding grimly, Keith watched through the mirror as they shot back towards Arus and the Castle of Lions.

* * *

**(At the Castle of Lions...)**

"Allura, we've got a problem," Eighty-Four rushed into the bridge with Keith as soon as she could, but was stopped in her tracks when she saw a hailing frequency from Sendak playing on the big screen.

" _I am here to confiscate the Lions_ ," the Galra commander spoke, " _Turn them over to me, or I will..._ "

He trailed off as soon as he noted the Altean bounty hunter walk into the room, and she grit her teeth. Damn, she didn't think it would be _him_ of all Galrans who'd show up.

" _...Well, well, well, if it isn't Tracker 84-2009,_ " the whole room turned to look at her, and she cursed under her breath before walking to the center of the room, " _So this is where you ran off to. Never thought you would've been apart of the resistance...I always thought you were smarter than that._ "

"Not really. Th' only thing I ever needed ta be was smarter than _you_ ," Eighty-Four spoke, her voice sweet and sarcastic.

" _Too bad. But I guess I should've seen this coming: you are Altean, after all,_ " he scoffed, then leaned in closer to the camera, " _You're going to wish you would've finished things in bed before I get down there, you little -_ "

With a finger, Eighty-Four ended the frequency abruptly, cutting the talkative Galran off.

"...Oops," she murmured in a dead-pan voice, "Guess you should've seen _that_ comin'."

As Eighty-Four turned around, Allura stepped forward in a confronting fashion, with a judging look on her face. Ah, _quiznak_.

"Did that Galra commander just imply you and he were - ?"

"Ah!" Eighty-Four interrupted her, hoping to distract everyone from asking questions, "No time fer that! Ya'll should be glad that he's here! _We_ need th' Red Lion, _they_ got the Red Lion - let's go get it!"

"Wait, just 'go get it'? Seriously!? Th-the scary purple alien thing is driving his battleship toward us." Hunk stuttered, "We only have four lions - "

"Technically, only three working lions," Pidge interjected, and Hunk patted him on the shoulder.

"That's right, thank you Pidge," the bandana-wearing human continued, " _Three_ working lions, and-and a castle that's, like, 10,000 years old!"

"Actually, it's 10,600 years old. You see, it was built by my grandfather - "

"Thanks Coran. Thank you for that," Hunk silenced the mustached Altean and turned back towards the group, "See? Now is the perfect time to panic, not raid that thing's ship!

And luckily for the bounty hunter, that seemed to spark a whole debate between the group. Eighty-Four sighed silently and wiped the sweat off her forehead. Deciding that it would be best to let the rest of them talk it out, she leaned against a wall nearby and watched the events unfold. Then, Allura turned to her, unsure. Eighty-Four tensed for a second, a bit worried that Allura would return back to the 'were you in bed with the enemy?' query, but was glad when the topic remained unchanged.

"Eighty-Four...which would you rather...?"

"I was up fer escapin' since I got here," the pale Altean glanced at Shiro, whose eyes were narrowing, "An' I'm guessin' hero-boy over here would vote opposite o' me, so we're still at a tie, princess. Guessin' Coran'll follow whatever ya say, so it's still yer decision there."

"I...I still don't know what to do," Allura looked down, closing her eyes.

"Perhaps your father can help," Coran caught the princess' attention, and gestured to a door that hadn't been open before.

"My father...?" a look of question crossed her features before Coran led her down the hallway. This left Eighty-Four with the other five humans, and they seemed to remain separate from each other, like a stand-off. Shrugging, she decided to grab something to drink, having remembered how Coran ordered something from the walls and it automatically popped out that food tray. Eighty-Four pressed a panel and asked for some water, pleased when a little food tray with a pouch of liquid zipped out towards her. However, as she was drinking, she noticed Shiro approaching her out of the corner of her eye.

"...So, you and Sendak?"

"Pbbttthhh!" she spit out her water, startled that he asked, and drew the attention of the other humans, "Ughhh...uhhh, whuh?"

"Don't play dumb with me," Shiro narrowed his eyes, "What were you thinking? Sleeping with the enemy?!"

Eighty-Four stared at him for a few moments. It was as if he hadn't lost his memory, like he was back to his old self - but she knew it wasn't true. And for those few brief seconds...it hurt. She shook her head, however, and forced a grin.

"How do ya think I got ya off th' ship?" she took a swig of water, swallowing quickly this time, "Besides, it's not like we actually did anythin'...I jus' used his credentials to get 'round, tha's all. What better way ta avoid suspicion while movin' through th' ship than bein' th' commander's love-bunny?"

"Love-bunny?" Shiro's face scrunched in on itself, and she couldn't help but laugh.

"Anyway, I think we got bigger problems than th' ones o' th' past," she tilted her pouch at the four boys who were staring at them, and Shiro turned to follow her lead, "Whatever decision th' princess goes with, it'd be best if they all agreed, don't ya?"

"...I can't force them to do things they don't want to do," Shiro whispered to her.

"But ya _are_ their leader," she bit her lip, then reached up and ruffled his hair, "I've seen th' way they look at ya. An' how ye've talked to 'em before. Jus'...do that, an' everythin'll be all right."

His eyes went wide at the gesture, and she walked away before he could speak to her again.

"...What was that about?" he mumbled to himself, one hand coming up to smooth his ruffled hair. He never did get an answer, though, as Princess Allura stepped back into the bridge, dressed in a bodysuit and a determined look in her eye. Looks like the princess found the answer she was looking for...

* * *

**(During the Red Lion operation, outside the Castle of Lions...)**

* * *

**_Log Entry 6102-016-02_ **

_...Ya know how hard it was ta look ya in th' eyes t'day?  
_

_Ye even said some o' th' same things, but I know it weren't "you". Not th' "you" I wiped._

_It almost made me wanna tell ya everythin'. Jus' confess what I did..._

_Heh...thought I had more resolve than tha'._

_Then again...I never loved someone as much as I did you, now have I?_

_..._

_When was th' las' time I even told ya I loved ya? Do ya remember?_

_Or called ya by yer name, jus' th' way ya liked it?_

_I shoulda said it when I had ta send ya off. It was th' las' time, but I couldn't even bring m'self ta..._

_..._

_Alfor's Beard, I've grown soft, haven't I?_

_I even wanted ta tell ya...don't go. Ye don't have ta be a Paladin. Ye don't have ta pilot tha' lion._

_Would that I could...ta keep ya safe...I even wiped yer mind._

_But it turns out I jus' made it worse..._

**_*BEEP BEEP BEEP*_ **

_Whuh?_

_..._

**_*sound of sighing*_ **

_That oughta be tha' princess we met t'day. Allura._

_Ya look like ya like her._

_..._

_Made me a li'l jealous, but I kissed tha' "brother" o' yours, Keith - so I guess tha' makes us even, heh._

_Eighty-Four, out._

* * *

"...What?" Eighty-Four rubbed her eyes, wiping the vestiges of tears as she clicked her recorder off, and her intercom on.

" _Shiro and Pidge reported in, saying they let loose a few prisoners from Sendak's ship_ ," came Allura's voice over the intercom, " _I need you to pick them up before we have the particle barrier up. I'll send you their landing coordinates._ "

"...Roger," Eighty-Four flicked away the newly-lit Q-fume and walked back to the hangar bay in a hurried fashion.

The pale Altean would've turned paler if she could, having heard the news. Those prisoners knew Shiro, and if they met...Alfor's Beard, she hoped they kept their mouths shut. She grit her teeth as she loaded herself into one of the larger ships, and plugged in the coordinates of the fallen escape vessel. Why did having to keep the past in the past be so hard?! Eighty-Four shook her head as she blasted off, using the short time it took to get there to calm herself. It didn't take long to see the smoke, however, and she pushed the ship to its limit in getting there.

"Please, down here!" called one of the prisoners, Cyblor, confirming her worst suspicions - he was one of the first aliens who met Shiro. Damn...damn, damn, damn!

Eighty-Four landed the ship next to them, and they waited patiently for her to open the cargo bay doors. However, she made sure she was down there as she lowered the ramp, her arms crossed and her expression dark.

"...Eighty-Four? Is that...is that really you?" Cyblor asked, his large lips enunciating each word with ease, "We thought we'd never see you again - or Shiro, for that matter! What in the known universe is going on?!"

"You - dead, in five ticks, if ya don't answer mah questions," Eighty-Four warned as she brought up one of her magnums, and the prisoners gasped at her hostile attitude.

"E-Eighty-Four, what ever is the matter? Why are you so upset?"

"What did ya tell Shiro?"

"W-What?"

"I know ya saw 'im, now what did ya tell 'im?" she walked down the ramp and kept the gun leveled at Cyblor, eyes flashing.

"We-well, I-I-I-"

"Did ya tell 'im 'bout our relationship?"

"N-no! Why would I?! He knows what relationship you...and he...wait, why would he not...?" a perplexed look crossed Cyblor's face, and Eighty-Four sighed.

"...'Cause I erased his memory," she explained, lowering the weapon, "Now tell me Cyblor...what exactly did ya say ta him?"

"I only said I knew that if anyone could save us, it'd be him...the Champion," Cyblor looked down, shaking his head, "Oh Eighty-Four...why ever would you erase his memory? You two were so happy together..."

"...It came back," Eighty-Four holstered her magnum as she turned away, ignoring the surprise in Cyblor's eyes, "Ye should know what I mean when I say tha'. Ye were friends with mah mother."

"That is hardly an excuse to - "

"I'm sorry, did I ask yer opinion th' matter?" she turned to look at him, daring him to speak, "This be mah decision, an' mah decision alone, ya hear? An' if he asks ya questions, ya better not tell 'im any more than 'e needs ta know."

"..." Cyblor turned to his compatriots, getting them to agree before turning to Eighty-Four once more, "We understand. But if I may...?"

"...What?" her tone was thin and curt.

"If _that_ has returned...don't suffer through it alone," Cyblor approached her with a sympathetic look, putting a thin hand on her shoulder, "If you don't want to be with Shiro, then come join us. We would be happy to welcome you into our homes, for all that you and Shiro have done for us. Now more than ever..."

"...I'll keep tha' in mind," Eighty-Four flicked her ears in appreciative sadness, then waved a hand to the rest of the aliens, "Now come on. We don't have much time. Th' Galra'll be here, an' th' best place ta be fer now will be th' Castle o' Lions."

* * *

**(At the Castle Lions, minutes before Sendak conflict...)**

" _Eighty-Four, I hope you're close! Sendak is almost here, and I need to put up the particle barrier,_ " Allura called over the intercom, her voice frantic.

"I'm righ' here!" Eighty-Four slid the ship into the hangar bay, just in time, and she saw the particle barrier slip over the entire castle.

"Are...we safe?" asked Cyblor, and the bounty hunter nodded.

"Jus' bout...but it'd be best if ya get ta th' med-bay," she opened the cargo bay doors and let them out, "C'mon!"

Eighty-Four grit her teeth as she felt the first hit from Sendak's ion cannon hit the barrier as they ran, and the prisoners screamed from the impact.

"Don't worry none 'bout that!" she yelled at them, urging them to run faster, "Jus' get ta th' med-bay, an' everythin'll be all right, I promise!"

Every time a hit came, however, a prisoner or two would shrink into a wall and Eighty-Four would have to drag them along until they started to run on their own again. It was a tiring process, but she managed to escort them properly. She grabbed ahold of Cyblor just before he ran into the med-bay, instructing him.

"Keep everyone quiet an' calm, as best ya can," she panted, her lungs burning from having run for so long down the corridor, "I'll be back."

Before Cyblor could complain, she closed the doors on him and ran back up to the bridge. There, she could see the battle unfolding between the Paladins and Commander Sendak, along with Allura and Coran trying to keep the particle barrier up.

"What's th' status?!" Eighty-Four asked before another hit rocked the castle, causing her to stagger to the right and hit a rail, "Agh!"

"Not good! The particle barrier will only take so much!" Coran reported in, and Allura turned to look at Eighty-Four.

"Shiro and the others are fighting in their lions as we speak, but they haven't formed Voltron yet!" she continued for him, but winced when another attack from Sendak's ion cannon came again.

"...Ugh, ya think it's 'cause o' that?!" Eighty-Four pointed at the giant tractor beam that was currently drawing the five lions upward, "Ain't there a way ta fire on th' ship?! Get 'em outta there?!"

"The defenses are _defenses_ for a reason!" Allura shouted back, "They have a limited attack radius!"

All three Alteans groaned when the particle barrier got hit one too many times, causing it to explode and the castle to shake disastrously. Bits and flakes of metal and stone shook from the ceiling, coating the inhabitants with dust.

"No...there mus' be somethin' we can do...we can't leave 'em ta die!" Eighty-Four yelled, breathing hard, "Shiro's up there!"

The desperate bounty hunter ran to Allura, looking at the display and trying to push any and all buttons, but none of them worked.

"I'm so sorry...I should've asked you to run with the others, then we wouldn't have lost everything," Allura knelt between the controls of the castle, hanging her head.

Eighty-Four glanced between Sendak's ship, which was preparing the final ion cannon blast, and Allura. She clenched her fists, roaring in frustration as she saw Shiro's Black Lion continue to move upwards, but unable to do anything. This couldn't be the end...not after everything that's happened. If it was going to end this way, she would've at least told Shiro one last time that she...

...

The bounty hunter sighed and shook her head. It was pointless now, wasn't it? None of the intercoms were working, and Shiro was still locked in the tractor beam. She couldn't even talk to him...and maybe that was for the best. Eighty-Four looked to Allura, her shoulders falling as she reached a hand up and squeezed the princess' shoulder. There was a despondent look in Eighty-Four's eyes, as if there was no hope.

"Hey...if it's any consolation, I prefer goin' down guns blazin' anyway," she grinned at the princess, showing as big a smile as she could, "An' what's better than tryin' ta form Voltron, huh? Legendary defender an' all..."

Allura smiled back, putting a hand on Eighty-Four's own when they both heard the ion cannon go off. Both Altean females and steward closed their eyes in preparation, and the shaking of the castle grew as the roar of the cannon fire grew louder, until...suddenly it stopped. Eighty-Four cracked open her right eye, but it seemed like all was well. Speechless, Allura rose from her position and used the ship controls to enhance the wide-screen monitor, showing a pair of glowing yellow eyes amidst all the smoke that came from Sendak's cannon. When it cleared, Coran jumped with joy and Allura sighed in relief - Voltron had been formed.

"...Well I'll be...Voltron..." Eighty-Four breathed, pushing her bangs out of her eyes, "I can't believe mah own eyes."

The Legendary Defender itself. But more importantly...Shiro was alive. And with that giant robot, he and the other four humans dismantled the Galra battle cruiser, sending it into oblivion along with that _quiznakkin'_ commander, Sendak.

' _Thank th' stars_ ,' she thought, sliding down to the floor in relief, ' _He's alive...he's alive..._ '

* * *

**(After the Sendak conflict...)  
**

"Hey, Eighty-Four," called the brown-haired pilot, Lance, who was passing the med-bay, "Aren't you coming? We're eating food-goo out on the balcony to celebrate. You know, for forming Voltron and becoming defenders of the universe?~"

He ended the sentence with a cocky grin, causing the bounty hunter to smile back at him. After the whole ordeal, Eighty-Four had kept her word and traveled back down to the med-bay to help the dehydrated and injured prisoners into the cryo-replenishers. She'd gotten a brief crash course with Coran beforehand, urging him to go with Allura to congratulate the Paladins when they returned, which gave her just enough time to go over what information Cyblor and the others could reveal once they finished their restoration. It was a bit of a headache, but she knew that if she was to keep up the charade, some things needed to stay in the dark.

"Yeah, jus'...lemme take a rest here. It's been...a long day," Eighty-Four sighed, leaning back against the cool surface of one of the cryo-replenishers. Lance shrugged before walking away, letting her be. It had been a long day, after all.

Eighty-Four watched Lance walk away before her smile slipped, her expression reminiscent and sad. She looked down and fingered the data log around her neck before pressing the rewind button and playing it back.

* * *

" ** _...Hey, are you up?_** "

" _...Mnnn...no..._ "

" _ **Come on...I know you're up...**_ "

" _I'm tired...an' drunk..._ "

" ** _I know you are, that's why I need to ask you something._** "

" _What?_ "

" ** _Do you love me?_** "

" _Mnnn? What're you -_ "

" _ **I said, 'do you love me'?~**_ "

" _Shiro, ge' orrfff, yer smofferin' me..._ "

" _ **I won't stop until you say you love me.**_ "

" _Fine...fine._ _I, Eighty-Four - "_

 _" **Your other name** **...**_ " _ **  
**_

" _...I, Jack...love -_ "

" _ **Your full name -**_ "

" _Oh my STARS, y_ _ou are this close ta bein' kicked outta bed!_"

" ** _Then do it, but I won't stop until you say it.~_** "

"... _Mmmrrrfff...I, Jack Shirogane...love you, Takashi Shirogane. There, ya happy, ya_ quiznak?!"

" _ **Very.**_ "

" _...Yer weird, ya know that?"_

 _" **Hahaha...y** **ou'll learn one day that hearing 'I love you' will never be weird...or get**_ ** _old_.** "

" _Riiigggghhhttt..._ "

" _ **Which is why I started your log to record it -**_ "

" _Ya did what?!_ "

" _ **Pffftttt -**_ "

" _Shiro, that ain't funny! This is mah personal log, ya don't touch mah -_ "

" _ **Mmmmnnn~~~**_ "

" _Mmff! Mmmnn...ya know I hate it when ya do that..._ "

" _ **Y**_ _ **ou love it...and I love you.**_"

 _"...Yeah, yeah...now shut up an' c'mere. Ya damn weirdo..._ "

* * *

Eighty-Four stopped the recording and shut it off, sighing deeply. She leaned her head back and stared up at the ceiling, letting the white seep into her vision.

So this was how it was going to be. Shiro - the new leader of Voltron, and pilot of the Black Lion. Day after day, he'll be putting his life in danger, trying to fight Zarkon and his armies with four other brats and a princess and her steward. Oh how she wished she could take it all back. If she had known that trying to run away from both Zarkon and freaking Ulaz would have ultimately resulted in this...she would've just come clean. Then, maybe she could've at least tried to stop him - tried to talk him out of it.

...Well, even that was a pipe dream. Shiro was just as stubborn as she was, especially when it came to "doing the right thing".

Eighty-Four grasped the data log between her fingers and kissed it softly. Then she stood up, tucking the necklace under her suit, next to her collarbone.

"...This is fer th' best," she spoke quietly, wiping away any tears that might've formed, "This...is fer th' best..."

With that little mantra, Eighty-Four shut away her feelings and locked them away in a deep corner of her heart. She took a deep breath, and another, before slipping into her trademark grin. She eased her tense shoulders, stopped her shaking knees, and walked like she didn't have a care in the world. Because that is the Eighty-Four that Shiro knew now. The Eighty-Four that the other humans and Alteans knew. And she'd keep it that way, for as long as she could.

...One day she would break down, she knew...one day, these secrets that she held would be too heavy for her to hold on her own. One day.

But _today_ was not that day.

And with that final thought, Eighty-Four took one more deep breath before she opened the doors to the balcony and slung one of her arms around the nearest person, Hunk, as she grinned widely.

"So, where's tha' food goo y'all been talkin' 'bout? I'm starved!"

* * *

 


	7. The Hair Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro gets a flash of memories, Eighty-Four finds that the past and her pants aren't so easy to keep, and the Paladins learn that teamwork isn't so easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, and hello beautiful readers! Welcome to "Breaking Walls", a Voltron fanfic! Now, you might be wondering why I'm saying 'welcome' here rather than at the first chapter. That's because several of these chapters were first written on FF.net, so I sort of mass-uploaded all of them in one shot. Now that's done, I wanted to actually say 'hey' with a new chapter!
> 
> That being said, I have been having some concerns that the original character, Eighty-Four, may indeed be Mary-Sue. I promise that I will work on that, and make her more realistic as time comes and her mystery-past is revealed, but until then, I hope you can enjoy her shenanigans along with the rest of the Voltron cast. =u=
> 
> I'll see you guys at the end, and I hope you like this new chapter!

* * *

**Chapter 7**

**"The difference between false memories and true ones is the same as for jewels: it is always the false ones that look the most real, the most brilliant." - Salvador Dali**

* * *

**(At the Castle of Lions, in Hanger Bay 02, two days after the Sendak Conflict...)**

"All right...tha' should do it," Eighty-Four huffed tiredly, sagging against the side of the small ship she'd borrowed from the castle. She looked out of the open bay and noted the morning sun rising, welcoming it eagerly after how cold the night had been. For the past two days, she'd been working hard through all hours of the night: salvaging and scrapping Galra wreckage for parts and barter. Salvaging her own ship, the Cutting Edge. Even hunting and foraging for fresh food and supplies on the planet's surface - something that she insisted on, seeing the "rations" that the castle housed even 10,000 years later.

The afore-mentioned..."food-goo". Eighty-Four took one look at its gelatinous structure and put a hand up. No. Just...no. Sorry, but it reminded her too much of prison food.

Upon remembering the foraging, however, Eighty-Four couldn't help but wipe the back of her hand against her forehead, wiping away the sweat that had collected above her brow. Her mismatched eyes drifted to the various food storage units, filled to the brim with various edible plants, herbs, liquids, and even game. The game was a pretty good way to let loose all the tension and worry she'd been feeling, but it was a pain when Allura and Coran both had sit her down like a child, explaining that she ought to take care.

What if the game she hunted were sentient? What if they were a burgeoning species on the brink of civilization? What if, what if, what if...

Eighty-Four had half a mind to tell them to go _quiznak_ themselves and leave her be - but endured the lecture when Shiro and the other humans popped in for a listen. Damn base-2 primitives...always so curious. She attempted to sneak out, but Shiro just _had_ to look at her like that when he caught her...and instead of ruining the mood, she sat back down with a sigh. It always unnerved her when bits of the Shiro she knew peeked out under the veneer, like a dementia-riddled patient coming to full awareness. Made her wonder if his memory was returning faster than she had predicted.

' _If only. Then I coulda jus' kissed 'im an' he would've let me leave_ _,_ ' she thought, trying to amuse herself from how much of a headache she'd been suffering over that.

It was always tempting to use the mind-wipe device, to secure a better peace of mind that he wouldn't remember, but she'd lost it in the wreck. No chance for re-doing it, and she had a sneaking suspicion that it would've done more harm than good, yet again.

' _...Well, nothin' I can do 'bout tha' now,_ ' she brushed off the thought nonchalantly, ' _All tha' remains is ta keep 'im safe...protect 'im fer as long as I can..._ '

Lethargically, she stretched and decided to take a much-deserved break. The nagging feeling of Coran walking through the door and chastising her for not parking the ship correctly did prod her conscience, but she just shrugged it off. She'd get to it later.

Speaking of the orange mustached man - try all he might, she knew that when Allura wasn't around, Coran was a bit intimidated by Eighty-Four. After the fading glow of their first victory was snuffed out, it seemed that he learned to be wary of her. Getting a gun stuffed in your mouth did that to you. Still, the brave little steward did try his best to keep a chin up whenever they were caught alone together, and he certainly wasn't shy when it came to Eighty-Four's attitude towards the others, especially Princess Allura. And...Eighty-Four could respect that, to a degree. So she made it a point to make peace with Coran when she could - provided he didn't annoy her too much.

' _Speakin' o' disturbances..._ ' Eighty-Four glanced upward.

Walking through the lit halls of the castle, she noticed the lights shaking and shuddering from time to time. No doubt from more repairs, ones that she would partake in once she finished getting one-on-one tutoring sessions on how to be helpful around the castle from Coran. These sessions were by far the most taxing on her patience, seeing as how he continued to insist meekly that Eighty-Four ought to recognize Allura as her princess. Pushing aside the long bunch of silver-blue hair, the Altean brushed one hand over the red arrow markings on her right cheek, then traced upwards to her pointed ear.

'" _Mah princess", huh?_ ' she flicked her ears at that, scoffing, ' _We already got a Lord...this universe needs less monarchies, not more..._ '

As if he had heard her traitorous thoughts, Coran's head popped up at the end of the hall and his ears pricked when he spotted her. Eighty-Four clicked her tongue against her teeth sourly. So much for that break. All this work and no play was making her cranky.

"Ah! So, you've...returned..." the initial enthusiasm he had whittled down when he noted the frown on her face.

"Only jus'," she gave a half-lidded look, but her tone was a warning if ever.

"Well...we may need your help! The Paladins have been resting ever since they got here, and the princess and I think it's about time they got on with their training," he pulled up his digital pad, eyes a bit nervous as they darted from it to her face, "We'll be testing a lot of the castle functions today, and one of them will be the castle-wide alarm. If all goes well, the Paladins ought to be up and at-em within a _queblant_ and ready to form Voltron!"

"Righ'...then wha's that got ta do with me?" she raised a brow, placing a hand on her hip.

"Training them!" he reiterated, then showed her the pad he was working on, "We figured that while our training regimen is one of the best in the universe, it may also be a bit...ancient, in comparison to modern-day techniques. We were hoping you could add a few ideas of your own, while keeping the theme of teamwork in mind!" A scrolling array of exercises and planned activities were listed in an itinerary-fashion, some of which made the corners of her mouth twitch upwards in mild amusement.

Really? He was asking a lone bounty-hunter/freelancer to teach the Paladins of Voltron how to hold hands and work together like a pack of Yellmores, joined at the ears?

...

Then again, the stronger his teammates were, the less she could worry about Shiro, right?

...

Eighty-Four made a mental note that love made people do stupid, tiring things. And _think_ stupid, tiring things. And feel absolutely obsessed while doing it.

A long drawn-out sigh came out of her, surprising Coran, but she nodded.

"Yeah...I guess I can think o' somethin'..." she flexed her fingers towards the pad in his hands, "Give."

"Umm...what?" Coran looked down at his pad, then to her open hand, "...N-no, this is mine."

"Then ya got another?"

"N-no, not on me - "

"Then why don't ya _get one fer me_?" Eighty-Four leaned towards him with a bared, toothy grin, and despite their near-equal height, he seemed to shrink under her red and blue gaze. How easy it was to make him remember the way she manhandled him...how much _stronger_ she was.

However, before he could answer, she backed off and chuckled, pointed incisors flashing in the light.

"Oh Coran...lighten up! I'm jus' messin' with ya!" Eighty-Four slipped back into her casual drawling voice, and slung an arm around his shoulders, "Ain't ya never had a power-convo before?"

"A w-what?" he asked nervously as she dragged him along.

"Power-convo? Like, markin' yer territory or showin' who's boss?" Eighty-Four bumped her hip against his, grinning when he gave a squeak, "An' I jus' owned yer scrawny ass. Ye need ta stand up, not shrink down, ya orange-haired fluffer-nutter!"

Upon hearing the ridiculous and disarming insult, and viewing the charming grin on her face, Coran's uneasiness fell and a shaky laugh formed on his lips.

"Oh yeah? Well this 'orange-haired fluffer-nutter' still has his pad!" he pointed at it, and she gave a snort, glad that the older Altean had seemingly gotten over his fear - at least for now.

"Yeah ya do...but not fer long!" she reached for the pad playfully, and he used his lengthy arms to keep it out of reach, going along with her game as they walked on.

* * *

**(At the control room, in the Castle of Lions...)**

The two fumbled and joked with each other for a good few minutes before arriving at the control room. The good-natured humor wasn't missed by Allura, and she smiled at the both of them as they entered.

She'd had doubts about the new Altean, for sure. Holding Coran hostage had been a terrible start, but the dedication and competency she'd shown afterwards...it was like a completely different person. Eighty-Four had picked up those prisoners when Allura had asked (and it was _asked_ , not _ordered_ ), and stayed when the battle was all but lost. She could've run. She could've just left the prisoners there and ran off with the ship.

But she didn't.

Additionally, all the salvaging and gathering that she did, Eighty-Four did it on her own. She never asked for help, or _pulled_ _command_ , not even once - which was a bit strange, considering how it was probably the strongest requirement that was fought for. Instead she only requested a ship and a few containers to help carry things, and then set off to work.

Volatile and unhinged. Reasonable and level-headed. A mash between the pleasantness of sun-soaked plains and being at the bottom of a frigid toxic ocean.

Allura shook her head, deciding to focus on the Eighty-Four who was before her now: _someone on their side_. And someone who was sorely needed, considering the fact that the Castle of Lions was usually staffed by hundreds - which now dwindled down to single digits, even _with_ Eighty-Four.

"Are you two ready?" she held up the communicator in her hand, meant to broadcast her voice to the entire castle, "Or did you want to continue playing?"

"My apologies, princess," Coran bowed his head respectively, "Let us commence the test!"

"Same," Eighty-Four raised her hands before shoving them in her pockets, "Ready when you are, _princess_."

Allura felt a small twinge of irritation - the paler woman enjoyed using her title as a way to grind on her nerves, rather than out of respect - and pressed the button to sound the alarm.

* * *

**(An hour before the alarm rings...)  
**

' _...89...90...91...92...93..._ ' Shiro counted his push-ups one by one, his muscles straining and his breath uneven.

It had been a peaceful couple of days since they'd taken down Commander Sendak, but while everyone had been celebrating or relaxing...he couldn't.

He couldn't sleep.

He couldn't rest.

He needed to _move_. And _keep moving._

 _He wouldn't survive if he..._ **_didn't...keep...moving._ **

Shiro gasped suddenly when he felt the muscle in his right shoulder spasm, and gave him phantom twinges that traveled down his mechanical arm. How...why did it feel like he could still _feel_ with something that wasn't _his_? And why only _pain_? Shuddering, he dropped to the floor of his room unceremoniously and closed his eyes, brow knit in thought and sweat.

If only he could remember...what they had done to him. If only he could remember why...

Shiro groaned when the pain returned, and curled up into a ball on his left side, clutching his nonhuman hand. His memories shifted to the sentries he'd mangled on Sendak's ship. The way his hand lit up in an unholy malevolent, purple hue. The effortless motions of his body. The way he seemed to phase out of existence, only to return with a concentration that required...no, _demanded_ he destroy.

Destroy destroy destroy _d_ _estroy destroy DESTROY DESTRO - !_

_..._

**_His hair. Being brushed back. Tousled. Fingers sliding. Tugging gently. Nails scraping scalp. A kiss, on his forehead._ **

**_"Rein it in, Champ. You're getting heated."_ **

**_Feminine. Definitely female._ **

**_And then another kiss...oh so soft, on his lips..._ **

_..._

Shiro opened his eyes slowly, letting go of the breath he didn't know he was holding.

'... _What was that...?_ ' he wondered foggily, and he noted absentmindedly that the pain in his arm was magically gone. So, too, was the fervent need to move.

The white-haired teen unfurled his body once more on the cold, metal floor and sighed in shaking relief. Whatever that feeling was - he reached up to mimic the way his hair was touched, dragging the flat of his fingers upward through the thick patch of white bangs - it soothed him. And yet, brought about an ache in the center of his chest. It made him want to reach out, to physically grab the memory and drag them into this reality, but...he couldn't remember.

He couldn't remember the owner of the hand nor the sound of the voice. He could remember the words and the sensations...those _wonderful_ sensations...but nothing else. He couldn't even remember the lips, even though he was so certain they'd been pressed against his forehead, just below his hairline, and then lovingly on his own. And there _had_ been love in those kisses. Shiro moved his hand down to touch his lips.

Why did he know that? Why was he so sure that _love_ had been there?

He had been stuck in a Galra prison ship for one whole year. How had he found _love_?! Was it another prisoner?

His panicked, confused mind turned and turned and turned - torn between wanting to remember and questioning the impossibility of it - until the feeling of pain and _must move_ forced him to get back on his hands and feet. Shiro grit his teeth, pushing himself into the familiar, but torturous position. Wearily, he reached out with his mind towards the memory, hoping it would work once more and beat away the nightmarish urges, but it was gone. The soothing effect it once had waned, and the sensations faded out of his mind like sand through his fingers.

Shiro sighed, his arms still shaking as he tried to compose himself.

' _...1...2...3...4..._ ' he started his count once more, but stopped abruptly when he heard the alarm go off, ' _...Thank God..._ '

He pulled himself up and grabbed his helmet. No more restlessness. There was work to be done.

* * *

**(In the control room, post-alarm...)**

Shiro could only sigh internally. Of course. Just a test.

He listened to Coran and Allura talk of the importance of being ready, with Shiro as the prime example. He was in his uniform, ready to take the call, and was the first there. Voltron would at least have its Black Lion. One out of five, however, was _not_ Voltron. And his teammates rolled their eyes or gave a not-so-quiet yawn to show that the obvious wasn't beyond them.

...Shiro was just glad they chose to ignore _why_ exactly he was the first there, all suited up already.

Tired and unfocused, he tried to compose himself in preparation for the long day of training ahead, but someone caught his eye.

**Eighty-Four.**

The mysterious bounty hunter who'd allegedly freed him. _Allegedly_ being the keyword.

With his memories still jumbled, Shiro wasn't sure if he could trust what she was saying, but the possibility that she had answers was high. He could _feel_ it. Ever since he'd caught her stumbling over herself with that Commander Sendak, who was in charge of the very prison ship he'd been on, Shiro knew that Eighty-Four probably knew more than what she was telling.

His thoughts froze upon meeting her eyes.

He'd been staring at her, unknowingly, from behind the visor of his helmet and she _caught him_. Her right eye, luminous and a deep crimson, contrasted sharply against the light, haunting blue of her left. Pure _opposites_.

Shiro's eyes darted back to Allura and the conversation at hand, but he couldn't help letting his gaze drift back to her, taking in her appearance.

Instead of the dark blue spacesuit she'd donned on yesterday, Eighty-Four now wore a black tank top, covered by a loose, black technician jacket, with a pair of dark baggy jeans tucked into battle-ready boots. A pair of matching dark goggles rested atop her head, her bangs sticking up higher to accommodate the new look. He briefly recalled seeing her darting in and out of the castle nearly all day and all night yesterday, making several trips out to various places - including Sendak's wrecked ship.

Shiro hadn't been too concerned at the time, but he made a mental note to find out what she was doing later.

Again, she caught him looking, but this time...she averted her eyes first. Like _she_ was the guilty one.

...Had _she_ been staring at _him_?

Did she still want to follow through on that bounty? To take him and run? A possibility, but one that he was uncertain of. He felt strangely edgy and unnerved in her presence now, like an itch that was hard to place and needed urgent attention. Reflexively, he felt his hand twitch upwards to run through his hair and -

Shiro froze.

The memory.

Eighty-Four's actions three days ago.

Eighty-Four had ruffled his hair. And...it just felt so _similar_. But it couldn't be. The words didn't match. The insane laughter and her aggressive attitude, they didn't fit the touching scene at all. Then again...she'd echoed words of encouragement to him last time, and if he hadn't been so distracted...how did she sound then? What look did she have on her face?

He brought his gaze up and stared at her, willing for anything in his broken memories to return.

...No. Nothing. No memories. She was just as unfamiliar as she was when they first met. If she had been...if she was the one...surely he would've remembered something?

When Allura had dismissed them, and the others walked off, Eighty-Four glanced over at him one more time - but this time, he held her gaze. He watched her, forcing himself to stare into those unsettling eyes, and see what emotions ran through them.

...Nothing. Nothing but slight confusion and dismissal.

So it wasn't her.

But...why did it still make him wonder? As he walked away towards the middle of the room, giving the staring a rest, he felt confused. So...so confused. Shiro closed his eyes as the platform started lowering, the memory of the hand in his hair coming back stronger. Probably because he had a similar feeling he could pull from, thanks to Eighty-Four's actions earlier.

...If he had any free time today, he'd ask her. Get answers to his questions. Finally _know something_. And then, maybe he'd stop feeling like he was losing his mind...

* * *

**(During Voltron Training Exercise #1...)**

_'..._ Quiznak _, I should've been an actress on a space opera...could've really raked in th' money from that performance.'_

Eighty-Four felt a deep shudder roll through her - from the tingling between her legs to her tightened abdomen, tickling up her rib cage and heart, and finally out through a long-held exhale. _Damn_...if she hadn't been holding onto the sink in front of her, she would've been on the bathroom floor already.

Why...why did he have to stare like that?! And it wasn't even _sexual_ , came a little voice in the back of her head.

...Was she a little offended that it wasn't? Well...maybe a little. But it didn't make the exchange any less charged - forcing her to excuse herself after the Paladins had left, making up an excuse that she needed to use the restroom.

Unfortunately, that wasn't the only thing on the bounty hunter's mind. Eighty-Four was so afraid that he had remembered...she had caught him looking her way multiple times, and then she had to be a huge idiot and stare at him in return. Like a couple of lovesick fools who couldn't get enough of each other. Could she _be_ any more obvious? Could she have overreacted any more than she already had? Already doing now?

And yet, she'd pulled it off. She'd resolved to see this to the end, and when his eyes started searching hers - she put on her best damn face to say that 'no, I don't know know who th' stars ya are, stop staring at me, ya creep'. It was forced, but she'd forced worse. Well...maybe that last bit was a lie, but she would do anything to keep him from knowing the truth.

No matter how hard it hurt.

The pale Altean looked up into the mirror and grimaced, steeling herself and sorting through what just happened. That boy was curious, for sure, but he hadn't remembered. She smirked as she thought this - _he would've done more than just 'look' if that was the case._ She then remembered the awkward way his hand went up towards his helmet, stopped, then dropped to his side as if in realization.

...The hair thing?

... _Quiznak_.

Of course, it had to be the hair thing. She just got used to doing it whenever he was stressed, and she couldn't resist when his brow would knit upward in that familiar distressed pattern, and...ughh, that one slip-up! She was probably being too hard on herself, since it'd only been that day that Eighty-Four had wiped his mind, but she knew that this would cost her. Of course something like that would trigger a memory.

And he would come calling, looking for answers if it did.

Which...it looked like it did, if his inquisitive gawking were any indication. Just _quiznakking_ perfect.

Eighty-Four took a deep breath through her nose, then breathed out through her mouth.

...So be it. If he had questions, she'd give him answers. Not the answers he wanted or expected, but the ones he _needed_. Anything to get him to stop being so damn curious. And who knows, if she nipped this thing in the bud, maybe he'd stop asking for good long while.

A slight sad, grimace passed her face, as though the thoughts and plans she were coming up with had a sickening taste to them.

At least until it was time for her to go...

* * *

**(Just after Voltron Training Exercise #2...)**

Shiro sighed as the Black Lion pulled into the central hangar, his head throbbing from the multiple nearby explosions and constant dodging. How long had they been doing that for? An hour? More? Less? He couldn't remember, but whatever had stopped the deadly barrage of Altean energy, he was glad for it.

Yes, after his conflicted thoughts about Eighty-Four, he might've been a bit distracted. Yes, he might've had a hard time forming Voltron with the rest of his team.

He never thought it would warrant Princess Allura firing off every defensive measure they had against them, though!

While the Hunk made a solid bee-line to the restroom, Pidge made his way to the med-bay to check on the prisoners. Lance and Keith, neither of them talking, went up to the main room to relax and try to forget that they were nearly smote by a hundred lasers. This was a really weird, and destructive start to the day for all of them.

But now, Shiro had an opportunity.

He clicked his intercom and worked an invisible circle over his temple. In turn, the digital readout from his helmet cycled through various names, one of them being "Eighty-Four". He was glad - apparently they'd set this up the moment they wrote up that contract, to have a line on her for the indefinite future.

"Eighty-Four," he called out, testing the channel. It should've been for her, and her alone, but he never was too sure about these things...

" _...Y'ello,_ " she drawled in that accent, which reminded him of a Western, " _Speakin'._ "

"This is Shiro," he stated plainly, "I'm in the Black Lion hangar, and I need to talk to you."

" _Sure,_ " came the easy purr, and he stiffened at the way it crawled in his ear and nestled there like a cat, " _Be down in a tick._ "

The white-haired teen clicked off the intercom and stood up, preparing his descent from the Black Lion. He wondered for a brief moment if Black could hear his thoughts, too...maybe even help him sort out the mess of fragmented memories he had. Luckily, before he delved further into that pot of mystery, the telltale signs of boots clicked their way across the floor, and he turned around from the lion to see her walking up to him in a casual gait.

"Ya need somethin', boy?" she asked, and he quirked an eyebrow - she enjoyed not calling him by his name.

"For the last time, it's Shiro."

"...Righ'," she gave a disinterested sniff, stuffing one hand in her jacket pocket and the other scratching her neck, "Sorry. Force o' habit. Don't usually call bounties by their names, makes it easier. Anyway, what ya need... _Shiro_?"

"I need answers," he pulled his helmet to get a better look at her, his eyes wandering to a pair of crates nearby, "And I'd prefer it if...maybe we just talk here? Without the others?"

She gave a wide-eyed look, looked around to confirm that they were alone, then fingered the zipper to her jacket with a smirk. The Altean shifted one of her hips to the side, highlighting the curve in the bright hanger bay light.

"Oh...well, we'd need ta know each otha a little better before I give ya _those_ kind o' answers," Eighty-Four gave an awkward, but flattered chuckle, and Shiro's eyebrows shot up at the insinuation.

"N-No, not that - I, umm...uhhh," he grabbed the collar of his Paladin armor and tugged, feeling the heat spread under his suit, "Ahem, look, it's about the past. _My_ past."

"...Oh. Well, why didn't ya say so?"

The way she just breezed by him nonchalantly towards the crates and plopped down on one...she'd been joking, hadn't she? Teasing him, the way she'd been doing to the rest of them? Shiro sighed, shaking his head.

"I just...after I escaped, I only have pieces...fragments of what happened," he decided to just move on, not very appreciative of having to struggle with her childish teasing on top of recuperating from a hailstorm of laser, "My memory's all over the place, and I think you can help me."

"...Kid, I'm was jus' yer escort," Eighty-Four leaned back as he took a seat on the other crate, one leg swinging carefree, "Paid ta get ya from point A ta point B. An' I don't ask questions."

"But there must be something...those aliens in the med-bay, they called me 'Champion'," he put his elbows on his knees, locking his fingers together under his chin in thought, "Do you know what that means?"

"..." she mulled over the word, and he eyed her carefully, "Th' Arena."

"What?"

"Th' Arena," she repeated, "A favorite Galra past time. Gladiators fightin' to th' death, or incapacity, in pits an' dens. An' if they were callin' ya Champion, it means ye've won a few matches against th' reigning Gladiator."

"I was a...Gladiator?" for some reason, the word caused his head to throb unpleasantly.

"Well, maybe...maybe not," Eighty-Four reclined fully this time, and he raised an eyebrow at her outstretched body, "Unwillin' prisoners were also thrown in, as fodder fer slaughter. Galra soldiers love themselves a bloodbath when things get borin'."

"So...I was a fighter," he spoke out loud, trying to piece together things that he remembered.

Before he'd gotten the mechanical prosthetic, he definitely remembered a prison, but it wasn't like the ones on Sendak's ship. The individual cells were cushy compared to the darkness and iron bars, and the smell of something spilled and rotten in the air. Sickening to think about, but he guessed it could've been alien blood from the fighting. He stopped breathing through his nose for a moment and closed his eyes, ducking his head into his hands as he tried to remember. At the same time, the silence that stretched between them was broken by the rustling of clothes.

"Ya fall asleep there?" came the mocking, drawling voice.

"No, just...piecing it together and - "

...

**_"Rein it in, Champ. You're getting heated."_ **

...

He opened his eyes. The woman...

"Have we...ever met? Before that contract of yours?"

"Never heard o' that pick-up line, but nah," Eighty-Four replied in an easy fashion, and he groaned at the joke, "Pretty sure I would've remembered a base-2 primitive like you, tryin' ta be all civilized..."

"I'm _trying_ to be serious, Eighty-Four," he wrenched his hands from his face in frustration, "I need to know what they did to me!"

Her current position was lounging on her side, stretched out on the crate languidly with one leg propped up, and the other continuing its swing. Her arm kept her propped up, situated under her torso, and she was picking at something in her hands - fruit? Where exactly did that come from? She peeled lemon and lime-colored skin off of it and plopped the insides into her mouth, frowning.

"Ye know...some things're better left in th' past," Eighty-Four suggested, and for once, she seemed serious, "Think of it as a blessin'. What if ya killed someone in there?"

While she'd encroached on the subject so casually, the chilling thought gusted through him. Shiro was a pilot, a full-fledged, graduating member of the Space Exploration Academy. He was trained to be an explorer, not a killer. Could it have been possible that he...

**_Destroy destroy destroy DESTROY DESTROY DESTRO-_ **

"Then even more so!" his sudden shout drew her attention, and he felt a little guilty for startling her, "No matter how terrible, I need to know...it's the only way I might be able to make..."

Shiro cut himself off. He didn't need the bounty hunter of all people to know his problems, but the way her eyes followed him showed peaked interest.

"Make...what?"

 _Make it stop. The need to keep moving. Like some bloodthirsty **shark**_.

"Nothing," he waved her off before standing up, sighing. So he'd gotten one piece of information. It didn't spark anything, only drew lines between the familiar and unfamiliar - prison to "Champion" - but he wanted...more. He especially wanted to know more about the woman, having his suspicions, but Eighty-Four's unchanging attitude and flat-out denial convinced him otherwise.

"So...you didn't know me, at all?" he asked again, and she peeled another fruit and slipped it into her mouth.

"Maybe I knew of ya," she acknowledged in small part, nodding, "New Champions don't come 'round often, but...actually _knowin_ ' ya? Well...ain't that what we doin' now?"

Eighty-Four lifted the swinging foot towards him, dragging her ankle up in an affronting manner along the outside of his calf to his thigh.

He started at this, staring at the surprisingly aggressive smirk on her face as she gave him a half-lidded look, and he backed away. Almost immediately, Shiro felt a schism occur in his mind - a separation between the woman he barely remembered and the pale Altean in front of him. They weren't the same. They _couldn't_ be the same. This oily...greasy feeling? It was nothing compared to the memory. And if that woman was still out there, waiting for him...what would she think of him now? Letting this stranger, this bounty hunter attempt to seduce him?

That line of thinking - it had him reeling.

"Enough," he warned, and she swung the leg down in mock disappointment at his rejection, "I get it. You didn't know me."

Shiro sighed, seeing that he wasn't going to get anymore answers, and started walking to where he knew the rest of his teammates would be. He didn't bother a glance back this time.

"Sorry I asked..."

* * *

...

...

... _Had she done it?_

...

...Was it over?

Eighty-Four stood up slowly, feeling an odd combination of cold numbness and wrongness settling in her stomach. She'd used that trick before, in her old days, when her targeted partner for the night was drunk, willing, and the first to come onto _her_. She would never have used it on someone like Shiro - someone who had a sense of honor and pride that would cause him disgust rather than intrigue.

But this was an emergency. And she had _panicked_.

As soon as he asked point-blank if he knew her, the Altean was glad for her already-pale complexion. It was the hair thing. _The_ quiznakking _hair thing_. She knew it, she knew it, she knew it...and she just had to _do something_. Persuade him beyond a measure of a doubt that someone like _her_ wouldn't know someone like _him_. And that's when she knew what to do.

Bar-trash flirting.

It seemed juvenile, but hey - so was Shiro, in her mind. He treated sex as something sacred, something cherished, but 160 years plus experience made sex just feel like...sex. A way to blow off steam. A tallied strike in a record you no longer kept. It wasn't special anymore, with the need for pomp or circumstance -

 **But damn if he didn't make it feel beautiful all over again** **.**

...

The unbidden thought caused her to freeze as she got off the crate.

...

' _Stop it._ '

...

' _Don't think about it...don't think about 'im...don't think about_ us _..._ '

...

' _Please...don't...please..._ '

...

Slowly, but surely, Eighty-Four felt the memories ebb from her mind. A soft sigh left her lips before she pulled them into an easy grin. She almost felt like she was even getting better at it...which sounded insane, in of itself. But sooner or later, she'd have to leave him. Sooner or later, he wouldn't need her protection. Maybe he would even win this war, go home, live life on Earth safely, have a family with -

Eighty-Four slammed her fist into the crate next to her, causing the lid to dent considerably under the pressure.

Soon after that, gross nausea sloshed in her stomach, causing her to gulp air like a suffocating fish. The easy grin became that much harder to carry. Her free hand flew up to the personal log around her neck, grasping it from where it dipped below her collarbone, and gripped it tight like a lifeline.

Deep breaths...deep breaths...

...

' _I'm gonna lose mah damn mind like this..._ ' she thought briefly before composing herself, brushing away the bits of neo-plastic stuck to her knuckles.

Then again, many have claimed she was insane already, often said dryly and with a twist of wry humor.

' _This is fer th' best...don't ya ever forget...this is fer th' best,'_ her mind echoed to her, fortifying her will, ' _Remember what it did ta ya...don't let it happen ta him. This...is all fer th' best._ '

With that bit of reassurance, she greased up a smile as best she could and proceeded to take the same elevator back up to the control room. She didn't want to miss the next training session, after all, not when she was one of the teachers.

* * *

**(On the training deck, a few minutes later...)**

' _Where is she?!_ ' Coran thought impatiently, pointing several glances at the elevator behind him. After the failures of the earlier Voltron-forming attempts, Coran had taken the initiative to suggest the Paladins try the training deck before exhausting not only themselves, but their Lions. Various recordings and documents were taken from the Royal Family data banks and old archives for study, then organized into a simple training regimen. However, Coran was uncertain - which is why he was so anxious for Eighty-Four to come in.

A worried sigh ruffled the orange mustache beneath his nose, his hand coming up to rub the corners of his mouth.

Coran was not a combat specialist. Sure, a few courses in self-defense and ship-to-ship warfare, but nothing serious. His main profession was stewardship - to serve the Altean Royal Family hand-and-foot. Additionally, his interests were xeno-biology and the sciences, partly inspired by his own grandfather and the Castle of Lions. Had he been more ambitious, he would've followed through with his tiny childhood dream of becoming a Paladin himself, but...again, his grandfather assured him that stewardship would be the best thing for little Coran.

He looked over the skydeck at the Paladins, who were stretching in preparation for the challenges ahead, and gave an apologetic, but determined look.

No. He may not have the proper combat expertise, but he would try his darnedest to help them become the cohesive unit he knew they could be.

"Hey, whatcha got there, _fluffer-nutter_?"

"Yeeeuugghhh?!" a blurbled-scream was ripped from his lips when he heard a husky voice whisper behind him, and the Paladins all cringed below at the sudden noise that shrieked over the intercom.

Coran clutched his chest and had catapulted himself against the window in his surprise, gasping for air. Opposite of him, Eighty-Four started laughing up a storm.

"Oh mah...Coran, yer too funny, ya know tha'?" she walked over and peeled him off of the window gently, "But yer a _little_ wound up there, don't ya think?"

"Madam, at least I am on time!" his fury was felt in the bristling of his mustache, and Eighty-Four huffed with a reluctant, but understanding nod. Satisfied with her reaction, Coran turned around and saw the Paladins giving confused looks up at him.

"Oh, sorry about that! Just a little...hiccup, ahem," Coran coughed into his hand, and Eighty-Four couldn't conceal an amused grin, "Okay! Listen up guys! The paladin code demands you put your team members' safety above your own. A swarm of drones is about to attack!"

The steward pushed a button on the console in front of him and a swath of the castle's training spherical drones poured from the sides of the training deck.

"It's up to each of you to do everything you can to protect the other members of your team," he drew up his digital pad, and started a timer to record how long they could last against the drones, "Protect your teammates or no one will be there to protect you!"

Eighty-Four walked up to the window to observe, and Coran frowned when he noticed Pidge and Hunk go down within ticks of each other - the first casualties. He shook his head, but...according to the procedures, this was all going according to plan.

"Time to increase intensity," he announced further, and the drones soon became unrecognizable blurs as they whirled around the remaining Paladins - Shiro, Keith, and Lance. Coran popped out another headset and held it out to Eighty-Four, who raised a brow and grinned.

"Aww, shucks...remembered this time, huh?" she teased as she took it off his hands, and he huffed while covering the mouthpiece of his own headset.

"I _am_ the Royal Family's steward and Chief Advisor," he reminded her, then nudged his head in at the Paladins, "So...what do you think? Picked this exercise myself!"

Eighty-Four watched as Keith and Lance started bickering, leading to the both of them getting shot, and leaving Shiro alone. A frown surfaced as Shiro fell shortly after, ending the exercise.

"...Well, it's interestin', that's fer sure," she responded as Coran stopped the timer, groaning and looking similarly displeased, "But if I may...?"

The male Altean nodded, gesturing for her to step forward to the console. For a couple of minutes, as the Paladins were brought back to the surface of the deck one-by-one, Eighty-Four adjusted the parameters of the exercise with Coran's help. She hadn't quite learned all the controls, and it was impressive to see the older Altean maneuver the technology with such ease. Once done, he gave a flourish and bowed, making her grin.

"All righ', testin' one, two, and-a three," she spoke into the mic finally, "This is yer _other_ trainer, good ole Eighty-Four."

Shiro's head shot up first, and a look of thinly-veiled disgust appeared on his face. The female Altean felt a twinge run through her, but she shrugged it off.

"We're gonna switch it up a little, if y'all are willin'," she started the drones up once more, "Now, in _real_ combat, a shot ta th' arm or leg'll hurt, but it ain't a vital area. So, this time 'round, we've given ya a...handicap o' sorts."

To demonstrate, Eighty-Four used one of the drones to shoot Lance in the leg. He gave a little yelp from the shocking pain and fell backwards, his arms bracing his head for the drop through the floor, but was left waiting when it didn't happen. The brunette gave a confused 'huh?' before looking around.

"Wha...nothing happened?" he started to stand, but fell over forward when his right leg refused to move, "What the cheese...? I can't move my leg!"

"Exactly!" she grinned into the mic, her right eye flashing, "You, mah boy, jus' lost a limb."

When the tanned pilot glanced over at his paralyzed limb, he noticed a small blue needle jammed into his armor. Touching it didn't seem to hurt, but pulling it out was next to impossible despite its thinness.

"Aww man..." Lance groaned, trying to still stand up properly, and Hunk came over to support him.

"Now, now," she clicked her tongue in admonishment, still holding that smart-aleck smirk, "This is a _handicap_ , gentlemen. No more automatic outs. As long as yer head and chest're still free, yer still in th' game. Though...heh, ye might not be worth anythin' much if all yer limbs're gone. An' I _mean all o' them._ "

Coran covered his mic and gave a pained expression, "Wait, you're not actually going to..."

He gave a point to his nether-regions, and Eighty-Four chuckled.

"I have seen warriors in wheelchairs still whip out what's necessary ta get th' job done," she replied, not bothering to cover her mic, "Trus' me, it _ain't_ vital. It'll hurt like nothin' ya ever did feel before, but it ain't. Y'hear me down there?!"

An uneasy quiet settled over the group before Lance gave a startled cry once more, and a blue static explosion erupted from his right thigh.

"Okay, what was _that_ for?!" he whined, and Eighty-Four rolled her eyes.

"Gettin' shot hurts, don't it?" Eighty-Four made a deadpan explanation, raising an eyebrow, "S'not like it's gonna stop hurtin' once it's gone, an' it usually hurts a lot more than that. Now ye remember that next time ya git hit."

The annoying needle disarmed itself and fell off his leg, and Lance gave it a kick in contempt before it rolled into a nearby slot, recycling the round for next time.

"All right boys, shields up!" the bounty hunter glanced over at Coran, who was taking notes on the event, "An' remember, protect yer vitals! Non-vitals, too, I guess - _heh_!"

* * *

**(Five minutes later...)  
**

"...Huh," Eighty-Four mused quietly, rubbing her chin as the exercise once again came to a halt, "At least they lasted longer than before, but..."

"They just need more practice," Coran supplemented hopefully, but his worry was still firmly etched in his forehead.

The whole exercise had started out well enough - almost immediately, the group had tightened their spread-out circle into a solid shape, and made sure to protect their individual sectors. Then, as the needles flew and mistakes were made, the formation snapped - and this time, it was Shiro who had gone down first, with a needle plunking directly into the back of his skull through an opening between Keith and Lance's shields. Coran flinched at the way his head jerked forward, and then plummeted head-first into the hole. Eighty-Four was surprisingly quiet, and all humor had left her face.

"Oh I don't disagree with ya there," she turned to him as she pressed the button to pull all five back up to the training deck, "I'm jus' wonderin' if there ain't somethin' we can do about those two in th' long run."

Coran followed her gaze to Keith and Lance, both of whom were brushing off the needles and shooting daggers at each other with their eyes. Hmm...that _was_ a problem. He was able to feel the tension between those two even before the training had started. And with each failure, they only got more and more irritated, so quick to blame their problems on one another without looking at the real cause.

"Pidge an' Hunk did much better this time 'round," Eighty-Four continued, pulling up a screen to review the footage, "So it's jus' a matter o' gettin' them inta shape, an' maybe better placement. Shiro's th' best outta all o' them, but ya need _five_ Paladins, not one ta make Voltron - an' th' group's too reliant on 'im. Ya saw how fas' everythin' fell apart when 'e was gone? It's jus' Keith and Lance I can't quite figure...I don't think a li'l rivalry's a bad thing - might even make 'em better - but even their smaller quarrels can mess up th' entire dynamic. They need ta be able to put aside differences in th' worst scenarios."

Seeing the laid-back female get so serious and thoughtful on the issue, Coran felt his ears wiggle in excitement and approval. He made the right decision to persuade Allura to have Eighty-Four help train them. Then he turned his attention back to the problem children, but for the moment...he couldn't think of anything.

"All with time, I suppose," Coran sighed, shrugging his shoulders, "Should we continue this exercise, or...?"

"Hmm, I'd like ta, but...I'm gettin' bored," Eighty-Four put the drones away and turned her mic back on, "All righ' fellas. Time ta switch it up."

Groans of protest and 'we just started!' floated up towards her, but she waved her hand dismissively.

"Grumblin' is fer belly-achin', an' it ain't lunch time yet, boys!" the Altean woman winked at Coran with a wicked grin, and he sighed. Maybe...this wasn't such a good idea...

' _My apologies, Paladins...looks like today's going to be a rough day for all of you..._ ' he thought, prepping the invisible maze next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, and new chapter down! I do apologize if I made Coran a bit weaker than he may be, but I do believe that he's a "science man", rather than an "action man". As for Eighty-Four, yes - so far, no real weaknesses, but I want to be proud of the little scene I wrote in that ShiroxEighty-Four conflict, so...no regrets. TTuTT
> 
> See you next time, lovely readers!


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